


He Could Taste the Stars

by subtlehysteria



Category: All For The Game
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, M/M, Post-King's Men, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 47,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7057927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlehysteria/pseuds/subtlehysteria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I am a Trojan. I go to USC, Jeremy Knox is my roommate, he has blue eyes, I have grey –</i> </p><p>Jean recollected himself. Those were unimportant details. So why couldn’t he get the thought out of his head?<br/> </p><p>Jean is still adjusting to being a Trojan, Jeremy tries to help Jean open up to his new team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Most days Jean still couldn’t comprehend what’s happened. Or rather, he understands, he just can’t accept it. Looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror he saw what he expected to see every morning: grey eyes, brown hair, black number three.

He raised his hand to his cheek, fingertips a breath away from stroking the ink on his face. His hand hovered there, barely touching the soft skin and already the memories began to rush him.

An ice-cold knife slipping under his skin, the malicious smiles the Ravens gave him, their eyes ravenous as they waited for him to slip up, to make a mistake again. They were always waiting to see what form of punishment Riko and Tetsuji would think of next.

Jagged smiles and cruel eyes were all he saw whenever he let his mind wander. His hand remained where it was, hovering, never touching the numeral that branded him as someone else's property.

3, 3, 3.

He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t even touch it without the memories flooding in, shoving him back into the Nest, back to the Ravens. Back to Riko's wrath.

He stood there, his hand still raised, for god knows how long before he realised something was wrong. Panting, short gasps. It sounded like someone was out of breath. It took Jean another minute to realise his chest was heaving. He was working himself up.

_Stop it. Stop this. Don’t be weak._

Quickly, he went through the list.

He’s a Trojan, he’s studying at USC, his roommate is Jeremy Knox, he’s no longer a Raven, he never has to set another foot in that godforsaken Nest, Riko is -

“Jean?” Jean turned and found a sleepy-looking Jeremy in the bathroom doorway, his mousy hair sticking up on end. Jeremy replaced his glasses once he’d finished rubbing his eyes. He must have just woken up.

“Jean?” Jeremy asked again, although this time worry tinged his words. He was on high alert, as always. Although Jeremy appeared to only ever have good intentions, Jean still couldn’t let the sliver of doubt and distrust slip from his conscience. Jeremy had insisted, politely, of course, that Jean take the empty bed in his dorm room when he first moved to USC (most likely to keep an eye on him at Renee’s request). It had taken some getting used to (especially considering his old sleeping arrangements) but, eventually, he had taught himself to bury his head deep down in his pillow when the nightmares came prowling. Night time always triggered a trip down memory lane. Jean knew it was a slight chance but he hoped, eventually, over time, his body would learn to forget the pain, to just go numb rather at the memories. Or better still, to forget. But, to be honest, he’d only been at USC for little over two months, that was nothing compared to the eternity he’d spent in hell at Evermore. Two months was nothing.

Jean grumbled, “Good morning,” turning back to the mirror as if nothing had happened.

Jeremy played along.

“Just wanted to check if you were still up for tonight’s extra practice?”

Again, Jean grumbled a response. Trying not to spot Jeremy’s searching eyes in the mirror he rather focused on his own, steely grey ones.

Gray, it’s not even a colour. Just a paler shade of black.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna get some breakfast with Laila, let me know if you want anything.” Jeremy didn’t wait for a response he knew he wasn’t going to get, but rather left Jean to his reflection. In the mirror, he saw Jeremy give one backwards glance before disappearing down the hallway.

Slowly, Jean returned his gaze to his own reflection. A slight twinge of panic struck his core when he realised his hand was still hovering above his tattoo. Jeremy had seen him like this. Weak, exposed; a tiny crack in his glass façade.

“Merde,” he muttered under his breath.

 

*

 

“Fo, howf it going?” Laila asked, her mouth stuffed with french toast.

Jeremy laughed around his fork of chocolate-chip pancake, trying not to spill his breakfast all over the diner floor. “With what exactly?”

“You know, with our little French bird,” Laila said, having swallowed and now about to take another bite of her breakfast. Jeremy intervened, grabbing Laila by the wrist and lowering her hand, causing some of his chocolate sauce to drip onto the tabletop in the process.

“The who?” Jeremy needn’t ask. He already knew whom Laila was talking about; all the same, he wanted to make sure he had heard correctly.

“Oh, sorry…” Laila looked genuinely sorry, but Jeremy still wasn’t impressed. “I meant Jean. Alvarez -” Ah. Now it made sense.

“Alvarez should learn to keep her opinions to herself,” Jeremy mumbled.

Jean was a piece of work; Jeremy will be the first to admit that. Jean hardly spoke (if he did it was to gruffly comment on some or other mistake his new teammates had made on the court), he never took part in any social activities (no matter how hard Jeremy tried to hint at him), and he never spoke his mind, especially when he woke up muffling his screams at night. Jeremy could not count how many times he’s wanted to get up and help, to put a hand on Jean’s shoulder, to say _I’m here, you’re safe. You don’t have to hide anymore._ Now, all of a sudden, his chocolate-drenched pancakes didn’t seem as appealing anymore.

“I know,” Laila brought Jeremy out of his reverie. “She’s just sceptical. You understand that much at least.” It was a statement, not a question. Alvarez was quite possibly one of the toughest women Jeremy had ever met. The toughest and the most caring. (Quite the combination.) You only got a piece of the caring if she trusted you, though, and Jean had not proven himself worthy. Alvarez was wary, and why wouldn’t she be? Jean was formerly a Raven, and that place, the Nest, as Jean calls it, was practically a cult. Jeremy looks at Jean and wonders in amazement how he made it out of there alive. Of course, he knew the answer to that already: Renee Walker.

“I understand,” Jeremy said, coming to again. “I just think if she gave him a chance, if we all did, then maybe we could help him adjust.”

“What do you think we’ve been doing these past two months?” Laila asked all concern. Again, she was right. “Honestly Jer, we’re not getting to him. Either we,” and be we she meant Jeremy, “need to change tactics or Alvarez and Jean need to have a little chat.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t want to, but it seems like the only option -”

“No,” Jeremy was stern. He only kept this kind of tone for emergencies, for tight situations. For being captain on the court.

“Then do something, because at the rate we’re going, he’s not opening up anytime soon, and that’s gonna be a blow to our game.” Jeremy hated to admit it, but Laila was right. She always was.

“Okay,” he said, picking his fork up again. “But only if you help me out,” he took another bite of his pancakes, the sugar instantly soothing his nerves.

“What kind of question even is that, Jer?” Laila smiled, helping herself to one of Jeremy’s pancakes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy attempts to make small talk with Jean.  
> Attempts.

“I think we should call it a night,” Jeremy panted. After three whole hours of running drills with Jean, Jeremy felt as if he were about to faint.

Jean didn’t say anything. He certainly looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he only gave a curt nod and began packing up. Jeremy internally sighed. The first night he’d found Jean alone on the court after hours, he’d sat in the stands unnoticed, entranced by Jean’s precision and skill. He really knew how to put his strength to good use, chucking ball after ball at different cones placed across the court, a new move for each cone, and each one executed perfectly. Jeremy had been struck with awe. Only after Jean had finished, sweat dripping from his brow, shoulders sagging as he tore off is armour, did he spot Jeremy in the stands. He’d stopped - his hand grasped to take off his left arm guard - and had stared Jeremy down. Neither had talked for what seemed like an age until Jean had finally muttered: “Ten o'clock if you want to see what real Exy should look like.” And then he’d gone off. From then on, Jeremy had joined Jean every weeknight, save Friday. The two hardly talked unless it was Jean correcting Jeremy’s form or grip or stance. Other than that, Jeremy hardly ever saw Jean outside of practice.

 _We need to change tactics._

He was going to regret this in the morning.

“You said something about Raven drills once.” That stopped Jean right in his tracks. He was stooped, busy picking up practice balls that had rebounded out of reach when he suddenly turned. In two long strides was face to face with Jeremy.

“What did you say?” Those grey eyes were intimidating enough from afar; up close Jeremy was both mesmerised and terrified. It didn’t help that Jean was nearly a head taller than him. He’d dipped his toe in the water, might as well get on with the plunge.

“What I meant is, do you have any drills that could help improve our game? This has been great, but I want stuff I can teach the team, drills we can run in practice.” 

Jean's face remained emotionless. He was looking straight through Jeremy as if he weren’t even there. After another long period of silence, Jeremy was about to call it quits, head back to the drawing board and think up a new method to get to Jean when Jean finally spoke up again.

“Depends on what are you are wanting to improve.”

Jeremy released a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding in. He couldn't get his words out fast enough.

“Well, stamina obviously but in terms of technique, I think we could definitely improve our passing, and maybe the strength of the throws? We communicate well but he just can’t throw the distance.”

Jean gave Jeremy a once over, his look calculating.

“Fine, we begin with aim.”

With that, they spent another two hours working on aim and precision. Jeremy’s arms screamed at him the entire time, but they weren’t as loud as the thump in his chest at the idea that he’d gotten through to Jean. Not a lot, not even close to what he needs in order to get Jean to accept the team, but it was a start.

***

Jean knew something was up. Jeremy was one of the most enthusiastic people Jean had ever met, and, although his technique needed serious brushing up, he had to admit, Jeremy was a good captain. He took his player's ideas and situations into consideration but also knew when to deal a hard hand to get done what needed to be done. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Jeremy asked for Raven drills, and yet Jean’s heart had still skipped a beat at the mention of them. Of those people. Of his people.

 _Not anymore_ he quickly reminded himself. He knew this much was true: he was here, at USC, he wears Trojan colours now, and he has a new number, a new team. But something still stirred at the back of his mind, something black and unforgettable. Then, Jean remembered Jeremy’s intent look as he’d asked about the drills.

Although not as heart stopping, Jeremy’s sudden interest had intrigued Jean. The man had been constant in his after-hours practices, taking Jean’s corrections with little more than an okay and an occasional smile directed his way. And now, out of the blue, he wants more. Not just for him, but for his team. For the Trojans.

 _You are a Trojan._ He still had to remind himself every morning when he woke up. 

_I am a Trojan. I go to USC, Jeremy Knox is my roommate, he has blue eyes, I have grey –_

Jean recollected himself. Those were unimportant details. But now, he couldn’t get the thought out his head. The thought of clear blue. Crisp like when a lake stays still and all you can see is the reflection of the sky in the surface, unwilling to crack until a breeze comes floating in. That’s what filled his head as he tried to fall asleep, as he tried to zone out Jeremy’s noise from the kitchen. Jeremy, no matter what hour of the day, always seemed to find time to experiment in the kitchen. And it always had something to do with sugar. Jean was convinced that without Exy, Jeremy would be ten pounds heavier and a lot less appealing to half of USC.

Jean fluffed his pillow, hoping to make himself more comfortable. He willed himself to ignore everything _Jeremy_ and fall asleep. Maybe he’d get lucky tonight, maybe the memories wouldn’t come flooding in.

As his breathing started to slow down with sleep the image of earnest blue eyes appeared. Jeremy’s concerned “Jean?” from this morning echoed in his head. Jeremy was up to something. Jean didn’t like not knowing what his intentions were. All the same, he managed to drift from consciousness, the sound of soft waves lapping from a breeze lulling him into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean joins the Trojan's for one of their weekly movie nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little warning up front, this chapter is long and it deals with the after effects the Nest has on Jean. It does mention suicidal thoughts and torture so if you're uncomfortable with that please feel free to skip this chapter.

The drills were working. After two weeks of Jean’s instruction, the team was already improving by a mile and a half. They were nowhere near as good as Jean, but, eventually, over time, Jeremy knew they could be.

By the end of practice everyone was exhausted however they were still willing to have their traditional Friday night movie. This week it was Jeremy and Jean’s turn to host. Jean never took part, rather slinking off to the court until after midnight, when everyone had eventually returned to their own dorm rooms. But Jeremy had a plan.

“So, any suggestions?” Jeremy asked as he sat with all of his DVDs fanned out on the floor. Jean was in the kitchen, washing dishes. Although Jean could be haughty, he was still the best roommate Jeremy had ever had, at least in terms of upkeep.

“For what?” Jean asked gruffly, feigning disinterest.

“For the movie night,” Jeremy stated as if Jean didn’t know that it was Friday, that it was a team get-together, that it was a tradition. It was actually a family tradition Jeremy had brought from home. Thinking back now, he could still remember everyone getting into their pajamas, the smell of caramel sauce being cooked on the gas stove, siblings arguing over the seats on the couch. Everyone would also argue about which movie they wanted to watch and usually his father would have to play try-breaker. Jeremy chuckled softly at the memories now, trying to hide his smile.

“No,” Jean said, keeping his attention on the task at hand.

Jeremy would have usually given in at this point. Understanding Jean’s need not to be pushed, he would have chosen one of the Star Wars original episodes (most likely episode five, it was his favourite), end of story. But he wasn’t going to do that, not this time round.

“I honestly can’t decide, though.” No response. 

Jean finished drying his hands and began to make his way to the bedroom when Jeremy said, “Please? I’d really appreciate it.”

Jean stopped. He stood there, contemplating, not looking at Jeremy. Jeremy waited for him, prepared to wait however long was necessary. Whatever Jean was processing he didn't give anything away. Jean was a master at hiding his thoughts.

Suddenly he came to, walked over to Jeremy’s collection on the floor. He took one quick look and pointed at a cover. 

“That one.” 

He then retreated to the bedroom without a second glance.

***

“Where are you going?” Jeremy asked, sounding intrigued.

Jean was in the open doorway; about to make his way to the court before the rest of the Trojans bombarded their dorm room for movie night. He’d done this multiple times before, and not once had Jeremy asked where he was going.

After Jean’s third attempt to escape back to Evermore, Coach Rhemann had asked that he wouldn’t try to leave USC until the year was up, until he’d had a chance to “get to know the team”. That included the fall and winter banquet. Jean didn't know if he could manage either. If by the end of the season Jean was still unhappy then Rhemann had said he could do as he wished. Only after Renee had gotten involved, agreeing full-heartedly with Rhemann’s idea, did Jean agree to the terms. Since then, Jeremy had never questioned Jean’s leaving the dorm room, even when it was in the middle of the night. After a particularly vivid nightmare, Jean needed to clear his head, to get out of other people’s sight and be alone. It didn't make the memories any more bearable but it did have a somewhat grounding effect, even if it was just for a few hours. Now, Jeremy’s interest had been piqued for no reason. He’d asked so simply, like making small talk, “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Jean said. Quick, efficient, blunt. The easiest way to throw someone off, to make them stop asking questions.

“So you’re not staying for the movie then?” Jeremy asked, oblivious to Jean’s deflection.

“No,” he said, although now, his interest was piqued. Why was Jeremy so curious all of a sudden?

Jeremy hummed under his breath, “Pity. I just thought, seeing as you picked the movie, you might have wanted to stay and watch?” Whilst saying this, Jeremy was busy pouring caramel sauce over a gargantuan bowl of popcorn, licking the excesses off his fingers. He had delicate hands for a sportsman, like a musician’s: long fingers and a softness to his touch.

Jean realised he hadn’t given an answer. He was staring at Jeremy, who stood there waiting, no concern on his face whatsoever at Jean’s silence. He was patient. Jean wasn’t used to patience. He was used to short tempers, hard hands, and snarling faces.

Jean decided to deflect again, “Why is it that whatever you make, it always has something to do with sugar?” He had meant to sound rude, to get Jeremy off his back, but he’d just missed the mark, sounding sarcastic, teasing even.

Jeremy smiled, taking another finger of caramel sauce without any guilt. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Just then, a knock came from the open doorway, and small groups of Trojan’s came barging in one by one, an endless stream of hey’s and what’s up’s and is that caramel?’s flooding from the doorway. Alvarez and Laila were the last to enter, Alvarez with a bottle of what appeared to be whiskey under her arm, and Laila with foam cups and a packet of chips.

“We brought supplies though it seems as if you’re well prepared,” Alvarez smirked, having spotted Jeremy’s concoctions.

She gave a curt nod to Jean before joining the others in the living room. It was out of character. Alvarez usually just glared at him out of the corner of her eye, but Jean didn’t have the time or the incentive to really care.

“Hey Jean, are you gracing us with your presence?” Laila asked, teasing him with a smile. Jean was about to say no and leave. He needed to feel the sturdy weight of his racket in his grasp, the sweat dripping down his back, anything to distract him from his new reality when Jeremy interrupted him. “Of course he is, he chose the movie and everything,” he gave Jean a smile that said, _please, just go with it?_

Jean swore profusely in his head, not wanting to sound rude in front of Laila. She’d always shown kindness towards him as had the rest of the team, but Laila had given something a little more. She’d given him a knowing look when she’d first seen the bags under his eyes from a restless night, full of indiscernible nightmares and memories. She’d given him understanding rather than pity.

Laila took Jean’s silence as agreement, her smile brightening tenfold if that were even possible. “Great! Can’t wait to see what you have in store for us.”

***

Being in the Nest had not prepared Jean for the movie he had picked at random. He'd only done so to keep Jeremy from nagging at him. Jean did not like the effect Jeremy's eyes had on him. What was worse were the knots in his stomach when he'd looked away.

The film was called Groundhog’s Day. Jean had never seen it but everyone else had ah-ed when the opening credits came on Jeremy’s tiny screen posing as a TV. Apparently, it was well known. He’d never been allowed to expose himself to anything that might make him think differently, act differently, be different. Freethinking was dangerous when you were a Raven. 

When it came to the part where the main character repeatedly tried to kill himself, Jean couldn’t look. He stayed put, wedged between the armrest of the couch and Jeremy, but he guided his gaze to anywhere but the screen. Jeremy had looked at him, concern was written all over his lake-blue eyes, but Jean had ignored him and eventually Jeremy had taken the hint. Jean wasn't interested anyone’s concern. He wasn’t worth it.

Half way through the film Jean had been confused by the turn of events, when what’s-his-name decided to stop trying to hurt himself, to accept that he was stuck in some stupid time-hole that forced him to wake up to the same day every day, and to do good. He didn’t understand. The man was living through hell. And yet… he’d changed. He’d actually started doing things to help others, repeating the same errands every single day. For nothing.

Jean couldn’t understand it, how could he? After what he'd been through, after everything he had endured, and for what? Only to wake up and do it all day, every day, all over again. After everything he had done to try and escape it, the failed attempts at blissful ever-sleep, where he could finally close his eyes and never have to wake up to the dejection that made up his life. Again and again he had tried and every single time he had been found in the nick of time. Eventually, the punishments afterward made the attempts far less appealing but the idea had always stuck to the back of his mind, breeding like bacteria. Jean wrung his hands around his wrists, feeling the raised skin. The reminders were both comforting and disturbing. He could feel Jeremy’s eyes on him and waited for Jeremy to make a comment. Jeremy said nothing.

Jeremy managed to suppress his concerns until near the end of the film. When he had leaned over and whispered, “You alright?” Jean had grunted in response, not wanting to bring too much attention to himself. He didn’t trust his mask to have held his composure throughout that last part of the film, let alone Jeremy to keep his mouth shut about it. Jeremy had said nothing else, although Jean noticed that he didn’t lean back, rather allowing his shoulder to remain plastered to Jean’s. All Jean could feel was heat, as if their skin was bare, rubbing raw against each other. It was like an electrical shock. Jean swore he could smell burning flesh. But no, he was wrong, he could feel the soft material of his shirt. It was all in his head.

When the movie finally finished, the main character waking up to a new day with the woman he supposedly loved and didn’t just want to fuck, Jean didn’t know what to think. All at once, everyone else around him was moving both in slow motion and a flurry of blurs and smudges. He remained seated until one by one, all of the Trojans filed out of Jeremy’s dorm room.

Jean didn’t notice.

He thought he heard Laila say something to him, but he couldn’t be sure.

A light hand on his forearm brought Jean back around. He reacted instinctively. Pulling himself out of the grasp as quickly as possible he rushed to his feet, prepared to defend himself.

Then he saw blue eyes staring at him intently. Worry is all that he could read in those eyes. Jeremy’s eyes.

“Jean?”

“Goodnight,” is all he said, about to follow the rest of the Trojans out of the front door. He needed to get out.

Jeremy wouldn’t let him. Again, he felt Jeremy grasp his arm, this time, more firmly. Other than when Abbey looked after him post-Riko or Renee's comforting hug when she'd dropped him off at USC his first day, Jeremy’s grasp was one of the only gentle touches Jean had ever received.

“Jean.”

Jean turned and looked directly into those lake-blue eyes, the ones he now only had to picture and he could fall asleep almost instantly.

“Yes, captain?”

“Jeremy,” Jeremy corrected.

Jean didn’t say anything, and so Jeremy waited. Jean decided the sooner he relented, the quicker he could escape.

“Yes, Jeremy.” The name sounded strange and yet comfortable on his tongue, like a familiar taste he couldn’t quite place. Jean had never said Jeremy’s name before, always finding a way to work around having to utter anyone’s name. It made it easier to remain unattached.

“You’ve never seen that movie before, have you?” That wasn’t what Jean had expected. He shook his head. _Keep this intervention as short as possible_ he thought. But Jeremy had a different idea.

“What did you think of it?” As if it were an afterthought, Jeremy finally released his grasp on Jean, making his way back to the couch. He looked at Jean expectedly, waiting for him to join him.

Jean wanted to say that this entire endeavor was ridiculous. That Jeremy was wasting his time. He wanted to make his escape. He could easily outrun him thanks to his stamina. He could have gone then and there and Jeremy could not have done anything to stop him. And yet Jean found himself sitting across from Jeremy, on the complete opposite side of the couch. He didn’t want to risk that terribly mind-numbing warmth that came with Jeremy’s touch.

Jeremy remained quiet, still waiting for Jean’s answer.

“I don’t understand it.”

Jeremy said nothing, indicating for Jean to elaborate.

“I don’t understand… why he changed.”

“He was unhappy.”

“Exactly,” Jean didn’t know how to phrase his thoughts. He didn’t understand why the character had stopped trying to die, to put himself out of his misery. Surely, eventually, he would have gotten his wish?

Jeremy appeared to have read Jean’s thoughts.

“He realised he couldn’t take the easy way out. That he needed to change in order to continue to live.”

“He was already living, even if he was unhappy, even when he tried to –” Jean couldn’t say it but Jeremy could hear him all the same.

“No, that was just surviving. He was just going through the motions,” Jeremy wasn’t looking at Jean but rather at his steepled hands, his elbows resting on his knees. “Only when he accepted the fact that he needed to change – after everything he went through to eventually change – did he really begin to live, to experience life like we actually should from day one.”

Jean was speechless. He didn’t know what to think. For once he didn't have a clever deflection to tear the attention away from himself.

Jeremy appeared to be fluent in the language of caprice, for he gave a small smile. Very unlike his broad, friendly grin for fans and friends alike, this smile contained only consideration.

Jean could feel an overbearing warmth overcome him. Jeremy wasn’t touching him and yet he could still feel that same electrical pulse, the rawness, like when their shoulders had been pressed together.

Jeremy said nothing else.

Before making his way to the mess in the kitchen, however, he finally looked at Jean again. His clear blue eyes trained solely on Jean’s pale slate gray ones. Jean was overwhelmed. He looked away quickly. He couldn’t stand that look, the _I only want to help_ , and _I don’t know what you’re feeling, let me in_ look.

Once Jeremy had begun to bring some order to the chaos in the kitchen, Jean stood up. He had to steady himself on the arm of the couch. He didn’t care if Jeremy saw his knees shake or heard the small intake of breath he needed to clear his head. He needed to stop seeing stars. He just needed to get out of there, to breath again.

Jean couldn’t escape, not in this state. He chose to rather guide himself along the walls of the hallway, depositing himself in the bedroom. He didn’t remember changing into his nightwear, but before he knew it, he was under his covers, back to the door, willing himself to fall asleep without picturing those eyes. Jeremy's eyes.

***

Jeremy was beginning to worry about Jean. Jean hadn’t spoken the entire weekend after the movie night. Not once. Not even a curt grunt or murmured greeting. The most Jeremy got out of Jean was a simple shake of the head to indicate yes or no, and that was when Jean had actually listened. He just seemed so… Detached. His mind was tucked away elsewhere, not concentrating on anything at all except whatever internal monologue was continually running like a broken record in his head.

By Sunday night, and after a rather heated discussion meant only for Laila’s ears but ending up involving Alverez and her “concern”, Jeremy decided he needed to get Jean to talk, no matter the cost.

Running through his practised speech one last time, Jeremy stood to face the bedroom door. With bated breath, he turned the knob. His hand shook.

“Jean?” 

Jean was lying on his bed, fully dressed sans his usual combat boots. His eyes were fogged over as he stared at the ceiling above him as if waiting for it to collapse any second. His hands were placed limply on his chest, eyes heavy-lidded. Jeremy couldn’t help but think back to the sleeping princesses in the fairy tales, waiting for their true loves to come and awake them from eternal sleep.

Jeremy cleared his throat. This elicited no reaction from Jean whatsoever. Jeremy tried again. 

“Jean? We need to talk,” Jeremy was about to recite what he’d been practicing for over an hour in the bathroom mirror when Jean turned his head and looked at Jeremy directly. Jeremy’s voice caught in his throat. Jean’s expression was so forlorn, so lost and lonely. So open. And so beautiful in the terribly frightful way, the way the unknown has always seemed to baffle even the brightest philosophers. Jeremy’s voice hitched as he tried to speak, but he remained silent. His voice was stubborn, unwilling to budge.

Jean appeared to read exactly what Jeremy had wanted to say for he finally spoke for the first time that weekend, for what felt like years.

“I get it.”

_Oh god._

Jean’s voice was so soft, so gentle. A delicate timbre that reminded Jeremy of the sound of the wind tickling the ever-green oak trees at his childhood home, the one he still returns to every Christmas. The home where he had received love and comfort in only an abundance. Jean would never have experienced that. At least, if he did, he must have long forgotten such love. Jeremy knew Jean’s situation, how he’d been given to the Ravens in order to settle his father’s debt. It had sickened Jeremy down to the core. He’d nearly hurled the contents of his stomach when Kevin had explained everything that went down at the Nest, what was considered conditioning and training. Jean really had been to hell and back.

“What do you understand?” Jeremy finally whispered.

“Why he did it.”

Jeremy was afraid to ask, “Why who-”

“In the movie, why he changed, why he didn’t get to choose the easy way out,” Jean was still looking at Jeremy. Not through him like he usually did, as if he were just another obstacle on the court, but at him. Looking into him and seeing all that made up Jeremy laid bare. Jeremy felt naked, raw even. He’d never been looked at like this, and he had a feeling he never would again. At least, not by anyone else.

“He needed to change, it was his destiny,” Jean continued. “I never used to believe in destiny, even when I was a child. It was graffitied onto the wall behind my eyes. You only get what you work for. You only get what you truly deserve. Luck, fate, they have nothing to do with it.”

Jeremy licked his lips. His throat was parched, the Sahara having decided to take sanctuary in his windpipe. And still Jean continued. This was the most Jeremy had ever, in the history of knowing him, heard Jean speak.

“I always thought I deserved what they did to me, that there was a reason I was sent to them,” Jeremy instantly knew who Jean was speaking of: the Ravens, Jean’s father, Riko. Jeremy had not seen them, but he knew the scars were there. Evidence of the most macabre kind.

“I fought and fought until the graffiti changed. _You deserve this_ it said. Over and over again until that’s all I could see. It’s why I gave in; it’s why I tried – I just couldn’t –” Jean fingered his wrists, toying at the raised skin, trailing the blue roads that mapped out the precious veins he’s tried so desperately to cut off.

Jeremy made his way to Jean, he wanted to reach out, to take his hand, and give him reassurance. He wanted to break this sick cycle of fear Jean was stuck in. But he didn’t. He didn’t know what he might set off if he and Jean made contact, what memories that might bring back.

Instead, he kneeled down, leveling his eyes with Jean’s. The fog was still there, hanging over Jean’s vision, but that couldn’t hide the stormy gray eyes that pleaded to be seen. They wanted to be recognized, to finally be free of the mist. No matter how hard Jean tried to hide that look, once Jeremy had noticed it, it would never leave his sight. It would always be there, lurking under the surface.

“I know,” Jeremy murmured, trying to sound soothing, but his voice came out course and rough, granules of dry sand running his throat raw.

“He had to change to live. That’s what you said.”

“Yes.”

“I was barely surviving and now I’m barely living. What if I can’t live, Jeremy. What if I only know how to survive.”

Hearing his name drip off Jean’s tongue immediately sent tendrils of fire up Jeremy’s spine. And yet he felt cold at the same time. Fire and ice: the most beautiful and deadly of nature’s forces.

“You’ll learn, just like he did. I promise.”

“How? I can’t –” Jean was stuttering now, his words tumbling over each other.

“I promise,” Jeremy’s voice finally gave way, no more sand causing a storm in his throat. He thought, no, he knew, this promise was binding. He knew, after this, there was no turning back, not for him, not for Jean.

Jean blinked for the first time in what felt like an age. It didn’t entrance Jeremy any less. His eyes were locked on Jean’s, hands gripped firmly together to ensure he didn’t reach out and ruin this essential moment.

“Your eyes,” Jean finally said.

“Pardon?” Jeremy was caught off guard by the sudden change in subject.

“It’s how I fall asleep, I picture them. I don’t know why, but it’s soothing.” Jeremy had had his eyes remarked on before. How beautiful they were, how they changed in the light, but this was something else entirely. “They’re the perfect shade of a lake, just before the wind comes in and causes a rupture in the surface.”

Jeremy was dumb-founded.

And just like that, the conversation was over. Jean blinked up at Jeremy one last time and then rolled over, turning his back to Jeremy.

“Goodnight.”

“Jean -”

“I said good night, Knox.”

Jeremy sighed inwardly. He knew that this was more than he had ever expected to hear from Jean, and yet he wanted more. To be honest, he just wanted Jean’s gaze to lock with his again. Jeremy knew that was selfish but, he wanted it. He needed it. He needed reassurance that what had just occurred was not a figment of his imagination, that it had happened. Jean had spoken up; he’d admitted that he felt lost, that he didn’t know how to live. That Jeremy’s eyes help him fall asleep.

Jeremy got up slowly, still hoping Jean would fix his gaze on him once more. 

Nothing.

He got into bed fully clothed knowing his fingers were too numb to work all the zips and buttons loose. When he finally felt sleep overtake him, the last thing he pictured was slate gray eyes, not fogged over but bright and shining, like he hoped they could be.

***

Jean ignored Jeremy the rest of the week. This wasn’t like the after-movie effects, though. This was pure deflection. He’d answer with his usual grunt of “Yes, captain” and “No, captain”, not once letting Jeremy’s name slip from his tongue. 

Jeremy secretly hoped it would.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy and Jean visit Destiny

Jeremy didn’t join Jean once for after-hours practice that week. Jean didn’t know if he liked that or not.

At first, he’d appreciated the alone time, allowing himself to forget what had occurred between the two of them on Sunday, to blotch out all he’d confessed in his fever (for he must have been ill, what else could explain it?).

As the week progressed, however, Jean felt something was missing. It wasn’t that Jeremy made the practices any more enjoyable (he certainly didn’t make Jean perform better) but he did miss something.

The way Jeremy’s soft blue eyes became hard in concentration, focusing solely on his technique. The way he’d grin like a maniac every time he got something right, only to have Jean correct his grip or his footing. The looks he’d give Jean when he thought Jean couldn’t see. 

He always saw. He could always feel when those bright blue eyes were on him. 

Suddenly, anger became part of the mixture. How could he have been so stupid? To allow himself to let a movie affect him so deeply, leading him to open up to a man he barely knew. He'd been careless and reckless in thinking he could let his composure slip. 

Jean took his anger out on the obstacles, slamming the ball again and again at the same target, and again and again, he missed. He never misses.

Finally, after an hour of no success, Jean gave in. Ripping off his helmet and arm guards he stormed to the change rooms. Only when he reached to take his jersey off did his muscles protest loudly, unwilling to go unnoticed. His shoulders were tense and stiff; his arms felt as if blood were seeping off of them rather than sweat. He checked, just in case. No red but the crimson of his Trojan uniform was in sight.

After having one of the most miserable showers in his lifetime, Jean made his way to the lounge area, hoping to go anywhere but the court, his dorm room, or those eyes.

“Thought you’d never finish.”

Jean swore profusely in French although he doubted the harshness of his words wasn't missed.

“What do you want?” The words had slipped before he could bottle them up. He’d been so careful this week, deflecting Jeremy whenever he could, never letting his name slip from his tongue, never bringing up Sunday night. But now, after one of his worst practices, after all of the sleepless nights he’d endured to get those blue eyes out of his mind, here they were, mocking him behind Jeremy’s thin-framed glasses. He needed to get out of here.

“I thought I could show you something,” Jeremy said, his hands fidgeting unconsciously with his sweatshirt pocket.

“And what made you think you could do that?”

“When you talked about destiny.”

That was a bold move, not something Jean would expect from Jeremy. Jean considered for a moment. He weighed the likelihood that he'd actually get to sleep after this practice versus following through with whatever plan Jeremy had in mind. Eventually, intrigue got the better of him.

“Fine, but we’re taking my car.” It would make for an easier getaway.

Once Jeremy had buckled himself into the passenger seat for the second time (he’d forgotten something in his car he’d brought “especially for the trip”) he began to direct Jean to wherever he thought was important enough to evade Jean from some form of sleep. At this point, Jean was second-guessing his choice, willing to endure the nightmares if it meant he could just lie down for five minutes.

After driving for over an hour, Jean’s patience was beginning to wane.

“You better not think that I won’t drive off without you if this isn’t worth my time,” Jean muttered under his breath, his tiredness getting the better of him.

“Trust me,” Jeremy said. Jean didn’t need to look to know that Jeremy’s eyes were trained on him. He could feel the heat soaking into his skin. They didn’t say anything the rest of the drive, save Jeremy’s occasional directions.

Finally, at a last minute, “Oh! Turn here,” (causing the car to nearly topple over) Jean turned into what appeared to be a dirt path entering an empty field. Either Jeremy had something up his sleeve or he really was just bullshitting his way through this entire endeavour.

“Kill the gas,” Jeremy said, his winning smile plastered on his face. He looked very pleased with himself. Jean did as he was told but before he could make a smart remark about Jeremy’s choice of venue for his imminent death Jeremy sprung out the car and hopped onto the hood. Jean proceeded to follow in order to knock Jeremy off before he scratched the paint.

Jeremy sat fairly comfortably on the hood of Jean’s car, oblivious, one leg dangling over the edge whilst his other was bent up towards his chest. He leaned back on his hands as if he were enjoying the rays of the sun rather than basking in the half-crescent moonlight. He appeared to be looking at something in the far distance.

“What are you -”

“Before you say anything you might regret Jean just sit up here a moment and take a look.”

Jean was lost for words. He didn’t know whether to silently commend Jeremy for his newfound authority or to punch him for thinking he could interrupt him without any consequences. However, Jean was too tired to throw a punch, so he got up on the hood, still questioning Jeremy’s motives, and followed Jeremy’s line of sight. Jean forgot everything and everyone for that split second.

Stars. All he could see were stars.

Jean’s heart skipped a beat. 

Every time he’d have to step into the Nest, Jean would try and save a snapshot of the sky in his mind, a picture that he could hold onto. It had been an incentive for him to wake up and actually attempt at living, no matter how long the wait. Those stars had already seemed like a whole other world, but this, this was no longer reality.

This was paradise, ethereal and non-existent. How could anything this mind-numbingly bewitching exist?

"I know,” Jeremy murmured, adjusting his glasses. His voice was barely a whisper. “I come here when I need a break from all the noise. It’s not often. I mean, I love the team and I love USC but, sometimes, it can get a bit much. Even for me,” Jeremy chuckled to himself like he knew how absurd his statement sounded. “It kinda makes coming here even more special, the rarity of the visits. 

“It’s funny because I actually found this place by accident. My GPS must have known something I didn’t because I’d been looking for some or other department store, for what I can’t even remember, and then I suddenly had to make a sharp left and… Here I was,” Jeremy wasn’t looking at Jean but rather keeping his gaze on his hands.

He wouldn’t stop fidgeting.

Jeremy’s long fingers tugged and pulled at his sweatshirt. The same pattern over and over again, his fingers slipping under the flap of his pocket only to appear again a second later. Jean wanted to slap his wrist, grab his hand, anything to make Jeremy stop. But he didn’t. He couldn’t risk the heat.

“It took me a while to actually look up and see all of this,” Jeremy continued, finally putting his hands to better use by indicating the sky and then letting his hand hang limply off his knee. “My car decided to be difficult, it stalled and then wouldn’t start, no matter what I did. So, fed up, I lay on the hood, took a deep breath and that’s when I saw it,” Jean could see what Jeremy saw. He looked at Jeremy look up in wonder.

“I saw destiny stare me right in the face,” and there they were. Jeremy’s eyes bore into Jean’s. The lake reflecting the stars reflecting destiny.

“Not just mine,” Jeremy continued, looking up once more, “But everyone’s… Even yours if you think about it…” Jean caught Jeremy’s look, hidden under those thick eyelashes of his. They fluttered. Did Jeremy realise how alluring that was? Jean brought that thought to an abrupt end. He really was sleep-deprived. 

“I don’t believe in destiny.”

“You thought you didn’t,” Jeremy corrected.

Jean didn’t have a response for that. Rather, he laid himself down flat on the hood of his car, no longer caring about scratching the paint. He dangled his long legs over the edge, using one of his arms to better position his head so he wouldn’t strain his neck further.

Jeremy took the hint.

The two men remained that way for ages, the silence slowly creeping over them, becoming comforting. Until Jeremy broke it.

“That one, right there, that’s my star sign,” he indicated an area in the sky, obviously expecting Jean to see some sort of pattern, “Cancer.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking at.”

“What, never learn your constellations?”

Jean stared Jeremy down, eliciting only a cheeky smile before Jeremy lay down next to Jean. Their shoulders brushed up against each other. Jean wanted to move, but he couldn’t. He was stuck in place, his shoulder melding with Jeremy’s. They were amalgamated.

“Look,” Jeremy brought Jean’s attention to his hand drawing a picture in the sky. He was connecting the stars, one by one until they made some or other apparent constellation.

“You see it?”

Jean had glimpsed it, but something made him shake his head. “No,” he muttered.

Jean swore he could hear Jeremy smile before he scooted even closer – if that were possible. Their shoulders were no longer connected. They were one. 

“Look, you start here and –” Jeremy stopped.

“What?” Jean turned and found Jeremy far too close for comfort. All he could see was blue upon blue upon blue.

Jeremy swallowed all too audibly. “It’s easier if you draw it.” Before Jean knew it, Jeremy was leading his free arm up to the starting point. Their fingers brushed, and Jean burst into flames. At least, it felt that way.

“You start here,” Jeremy breathed, his voice rough, not taking his eyes off Jean’s, “And you keep going straight,” their hands moved as one, their chests rising and falling in a slow and steady rhythm, “Until there’s a fork in the road.” 

Their eyes stayed locked on each other. Neither pair would look away.

“You have to choose.”

“What?” Jean said, his voice gone husky.

“You have to choose if you want to take the little road first or the big one.”

 _Whichever will take the longest_ , Jean wanted to say. Whichever would drag out this moment until all of the stars above their heads were long dead. It wasn’t even a question.

“The long one.”

And so they continued, mapping out first the long road and then slowly, together, their hands still moving as one, they made their way back up to take the little road.

“There,” Jeremy said, “That’s Cancer.”

Gray and blue were so inseparable; Jean couldn’t remember which eyes were his and which were Jeremy’s. They were simply there, as one entity, trailing after destiny and Cancer and whatever else the hell was up there looking down at them both. The heat from his and Jeremy’s shoulder had spread everywhere. There was nowhere on Jean where there wasn’t a bit of Jeremy.

Jean’s breath caught in his throat. Jeremy’s eyes were dilated, his lashes fluttering again. Did he realise what he was doing? How mangled up inside he made Jean feel? _What do you call this?_ Jean desperately wanted to ask Jeremy, and yet he didn’t want to disturb this, whatever _this_ was.

Jeremy’s gaze slipped down to Jean’s mouth. It was so quick Jean almost second-guessed what he thought he saw. Then Jeremy was leaning. He was so slow, almost indiscernible at this close distance as if Jean were some animal he didn’t want to startle. Perhaps he was.

Their noses touched.

Jean pulled back immediately. Blinking to try and get the image of Jeremy out his mind. Jeremy, with his fluttering lashes. Jeremy with his mouth open just slightly, tongue unconsciously licking his lower lip. Jeremy's fingers feather-light against Jean’s. Jeremy’s this, Jeremy’s that. 

Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy.

Jean’s eyes hurt from pressing the heels of his hands to them, hoping to wipe out everything that had just occurred only moments before.

He heard a murmur of words and felt something retract from his shoulder. The heat was instantly gone. Jean shivered.

That’s when Jean realised it was Jeremy. Jean removed his hands slowly, opening his eyes. Jeremy said something. Jean read his lips as he repeated the words, “We should probably be heading back.”

Jean didn’t respond. He rolled off the hood as quickly as he could, directing his gaze away from Jeremy’s and trying not to look desperate to leave. Jean got into the driver’s side. Jeremy followed suit, buckling himself in and resting his elbow on the edge of the window, chin on fist.

They said nothing the entire ride back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy offers Jean cookies in an attempt to apologise for being too nice.  
> That's literally the chapter.

Jean woke to the sound of a door attempting to he closed quietly. He looked across the room, his eyes zoning in on the sunlight peeking through the curtains. Jeremy’s bed was empty.

Jean got up slowly, willing his aching muscles to get going already. 

It was just another morning after another late-night practice. Jeremy had gone out to do errands, or have breakfast with Laila or whatever it was he did in his spare time. He was probably out buying ingredients for his next experiment in the kitchen.

Jean allowed himself to smirk at the thought, anything to get rid of the memory of fingers brushing, shoulders melding, lips a breath away.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

He made himself a cup of strong tea, no milk, no sugar, as per usual. He sat on the couch, stretching out his sore muscles, and willing himself to wake up properly, as per usual. What broke the pattern was the note on his desk. Jean hesitated. He tried to ignore it, blowing on his tea rather, willing it cool. But he kept glancing back at his desk and the waiting paper, causing a disruption to his morning routine. Eventually, Jean gave in. 

Hesitant, he walked over to his desk slowly. The note wasn't anything extraordinary, just a scrap of yellow notepad paper. It read “Jean” on the folded front in neat, plain handwriting. Jeremy’s handwriting.

Jean’s hands trembled from trying not to tear the paper as he opened the note. Except it wasn’t a note. It was a diagram, or rather, several. At first, they didn’t make sense; random dots and lines filled the page until one particular drawing stood out.

Cancer.

They were constellations.

Jean could now see that each drawing had a tiny name scribbled on one of the lines connecting the dots, which represented stars. Leo Virgo, Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Cassiopeia, Scorpius, Cancer. Jean re-read the names again and again until he noticed the ruffled edges of the paper. It looked as if the paper had been handled far too much. That’s when it clicked.

The fidgeting.

Jeremy had continually played at the pocket of his sweatshirt. He must have been fingering his cheat sheet – for what else could it be? – through the material. That’s what he’d fetched from his car, what he’d been feeling for in his pocket when he first met Jean at the court.

Jean sat at his desk, learning the diagrams one by one. He committed them to memory until he could draw them in the air, his finger tickling the invisible stars as he drew and re-drew the lines over and over.

Cancer was the only one he didn’t attempt. Jean didn’t want those memories to resurface; to remind him what had almost happened, what Jeremy had nearly done. What he had nearly allowed.

Once he’d committed the constellations to memory, Jean folded the paper as small as it could possibly go, wiping his name in Jeremy’s scrawl away from the visible surface, before stuffing the paper in the furthest corner of his most unused desk drawer.

Jeremy said nothing about the paper when he returned, but rather unpacked his recently bought ingredients and began to bake something smelling vaguely like chocolate-chip cookies.

Jean had to the hide his smirk.

***

"You did what?” Laila was frozen halfway from eating one of Jeremy’s freshly baked cookies, eyes aghast.

Jeremy didn’t know what else to say. He’d told Laila everything about the night before, everything minus the incident with the leaning. What had he been thinking? Well, to be honest, he hadn't been. He'd just felt... mesmerised. Every time Jeremy had gone to Destiny (as he liked to call it) all he could ever focus on were the stars. It usually took him ages to finally tear his eyes away from the sky and yet Jean, in a heartbeat, at one look, a husky whisper, had grabbed Jeremy's full attention. Rather than being unable to look away from the stars, Jeremy had been unable to look away from Jean. He had felt as if he could no longer discern which eyes were his and which were Jean's. The way their hands had moved as one, trailing the stars and leaving fire in their wake, how Jean had so intently kept his gaze on Jeremy. How their noses had touched when Jeremy had leaned in… He really had been out of his wits. 

"So I’m not allowed to go to your secret hidey-hole –“

"Actually, it’s a field.”

Laila ignored Jeremy's correction, “But you take Jean!”

Jeremy stuffed the rest of Laila’s cookie in her mouth.

“What the fu-”

“Shush!” Jeremy looked behind Laila into the hallway at the closed bedroom door. He didn’t know if Jean was interested in reliving all the gory details of the night before.

“Wait,” Laila said, having swallowed her cookie whole, “He’s here and you haven’t said anything?”

“I left him a –”

“Note?”

“Diagram…”

“A diagram? Jesus –”

“Actually I’m Jeremy.

Laila’s smack was almost hard enough to wipe the grin off Jeremy’s face. Almost.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I know that’s not the point.”

“Exactly, the point is, you gave Jean a diagram rather than talking to him! He’s right there, in your room, waiting!”

“Actually, I think he’s waiting us out so he can escape,” Jeremy said matter-of-factly.

Laila wasn’t having any of it.

Jeremy sighed, “Fine, give me some ammunition,” Laila handed him the plate of cookies after taking another for herself.

“You’ve got this,” she said through a mouth full of cookie.

“You know that’s a choking hazard –“

“Just go already!”

***

Jean wondered during the entirety of the kitchen conversation how deaf Jeremy and Laila thought he really was.

“Putain de crétins,” he muttered, trying to distract himself with a book when he heard a knock on the door.

“Merde.”

“Jean?” Jean got up and opened the door to find Jeremy with a plate of cookies held aloft like one would an offering to a god. Jean felt anything but godly.

“I offer cookies? Freshly baked?” Jean could hear the smile Jeremy was trying to hide. He slammed the door shut.

Jeremy didn’t take the hint.

After Jeremy’s incessant knocking with a “Jean,” or “Please,” or “It’s cookies, who doesn’t like cookies?” in between, Jean growled and finally opened the door. Jeremy immediately sidled in, “Thank you.” 

Jean saw Laila peeking into the hallway from the kitchen before closing the door non-too politely once again. He could still hear her chuckle.

***

Jeremy and Jean had been sharing a dorm room for nearly three months now, and yet Jeremy realised in that moment how little he actually knew about Jean.

Looking at his side of the room, there was more than meets the eye. Although he expressed his opinion of his teammates' technique far to openly, Jean otherwise kept to himself. But looking at the array of books and CD’s and maps plastered around Jean’s bed, Jeremy couldn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed before; he had a scholar in his midst.

Books of all kinds littered the floor and make-shift shelves above the bed; history, literature, some titles in French, others in what appeared to be Greek, along with CD’s varying from Classical to twenties Jazz to eighties Rock. Maps of places Jeremy had never even heard of plastered the walls, certain names of cities and towns circled or starred. Jean had a finger dipped in every pot, tasting as much of each delicacy as he could.

Jeremy was suddenly bursting with questions. What majors was Jean doing? Did he have a favourite author? Where does he want to travel? Does he want to do it alone? Does he need –

Jean cleared his throat. 

Jeremy turned around to face the onslaught of Jean’s keen grey eyes. Jeremy didn’t know what Jean was thinking, but it couldn’t be good if it resulted in storm clouds in his eyes.

Jean’s attention turned to the plate of cookies in Jeremy’s hands. Jeremy was about to offer again when Jean glowered. Jeremy got the hint.

“So…” Jeremy said, putting the cookies down on Jean's bedside table, “I –”

“Why did you do it?”

“Excuse me?”

“The drawings,” Jean said, his eyes still unreadable, always unknowable.

It took Jeremy a moment to realise what Jean was referring to.

“Oh! The… The stars?”

Jean gave no confirmation. Jeremy continued anyway, “I thought you might need them.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because of what you said, on Sunday –”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Jean said, not gruffly, but quietly; appealing to Jeremy.

“I understand that the movie was a hard hit, I –” Jeremy didn’t get to finish. In two long strides, like on the court on the day Jeremy asked for Raven drills, Jean was face-to-face with Jeremy, thunderstorms for eyes boring into him. Not through him, into him. Reading him, _knowing_ him.

“You don’t get to say that,” Jean snarled, his hand fisted in Jeremy’s shirt. “Don’t think, after one fever-driven conversation, after I slip up just once, that you know anything Knox.”

“I didn’t – I don’t mean to imply –”

“And if you ever tell anyone about anything you may think you know, I will find out, and you will severely regret it,” Jean’s eyes, where they'd been dark, raging seas, were now ghostly pale. Molten silver, rain clouds and volcano ash all wrapped up into one man’s eyes. Eyes that whilst saying, _back off_ also said, _hear me scream._

Jeremy had to think fast, but also carefully. One wrong move and Jean was sure to end his Exy career before it even began.

“You think you can’t be read, like one of your books,” he said quickly, indicating Jean's stack of books with a glance. Jean looked as if he were about to break him. 

“Anyone can read a book, but few actually understand what the words mean. I’m not saying I know what your words mean, but I will admit, I am trying. I don’t want to help, I don’t want to try and heal you, or cure you or any of that bullshit,” Jean’s eyebrows rose at Jeremy’s choice of words. Jeremy was surprised himself.

“I do, however, want to offer my company. I know I don’t know what you went through, I understand very little of it, and I won’t pry unless you want to talk about - discuss it, whatever. I’m purely offering my acquaintanceship.”

Neither man said anything after that; they only stood there, staring at each other, neither backing down. Jean’s fist still clung tightly to Jeremy’s shirt. Jeremy’s neck hurt from having to keep his head tilted up to Jean’s height, his calves burning as he balanced on his tiptoes.

When Jean spoke, it was barely a whisper, “We’re not friends, I don’t have friends.”

“That’s kinda why I said acquaintanceship.”

If looks could kill, Jeremy would have long since been dead. 

Jean kept his gaze boring into Jeremy; he was obviously trying to appear intimidating. All Jeremy could see, however, was how bright Jean's eyes were. Like they had been the night before. They were lit up like when Jean had found destiny looking down on him. They were burning, the volcano erupting. 

Finally, after careful consideration on Jean's part (and when Jeremy's calves had given into numbing succession), Jean spoke. He spoke quietly, barely above a whisper. Jeremy had never heard a more threatening tone. 

“If you mind your own business, keep your questions to yourself, and stop making your monstrosities in the kitchen at three in the morning, then I might consider tolerating your presence.”

Jeremy smiled inwardly, knowing it wasn’t appropriate at this time.

“So that’s a yes?”

Jean released his grip on Jeremy, “It’s a slight perhaps.”

“I’ll still take that as a yes either way,” Jeremy hid his smile as he sidestepped Jean, making his way to the plate of cookies. He offered the plate once more. 

“Last chance?” Jean wasn’t interested.

“Suit yourself,” with that, Jeremy placed a cookie between his teeth, and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Just as quickly he opened the door again, popping his head back in. “Woul’ whou whant thso gho bhack?” 

Jean was caught off guard. 

“Hein?” he asked quickly in French. Jeremy removed the cookie from his mouth.

“Would you want to go back? To Destiny?”

“I thought the rarity is what made it special.”

“What would another visit hurt? It’s not like we’re breaking the law or anything. And besides, I want to show you those other constellations.” Jeremy didn’t wait for Jean’s response. Closing the door, Jeremy left Jean to his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of Jean's French (excuse the... well the French):
> 
> Putain de crétins - Fucking morons
> 
> Merde - Shit
> 
> Hein? - What?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremy takes Jean shopping

The next few weeks were interesting, to say the least. Jeremy took his role as acquaintance very seriously. A little too seriously.

He stopped baking in the middle of the night first off which meant he was in need of a distraction, and asking Jean about his subjects and books appeared to be the perfect one.

Jean had answered the questions as curtly as possible, hoping to throw Jeremy off the subject, but Jeremy had persisted. He was fascinated by Jean’s choice in studying Greek, asking for translations and phrases occasionally. Or he’d ask Jean about the maps on his wall, why he chose those particular places and if he wanted to travel. Jean had gotten into a little more detail about this.

"It’s this minuscule island. Hardly anyone knows about it, but it’s apparently one of the most beautiful tropical islands in the world.”

“And you want to go there someday?” Jeremy had asked, sounding very interested.

Jean had hesitated.

“Yes,” he’d said, “Perhaps someday.” Jeremy had picked up that a change in subject was needed so he'd moved on to another book. Anything to keep the conversation going.

At the fall banquet, Jeremy had kept his distance although Jean had known he was keeping a non-too-discrete eye on him. Jean understood Jeremy's caution.

Jean was no longer a Raven, meaning he didn't have to socialize with his old team. They were miles away at their own banquet and yet Jean couldn't help but check over his shoulder, seeking out his old teammates whenever he saw a black suit.

Now that he was a Trojan, Jean didn't have to wear the same black suit as every other man of the Raven's team, he didn't have to keep perfect synchrony with every other black-clad teammate and he didn't have to stick to Riko's side every step of the way. Most importantly, he didn't have to worry about the Master's judgement.

Jean was free to wear what he liked and talk (or not talk) to whomever he chose. It had been daunting, to say the least. 

The Trojan's chose not to stick around for the second day, rather getting back onto their team bus and taking the slow ride back to USC in the middle of the night. Once they had made it back to their dorms, Jeremy and Laila buzzing from the hype, Alvarez "dying for a proper drink" and Jean exhausted but at least able to breathe again, the Trojan's all collapsed into their beds, more than ready for a well-deserved rest.

Jeremy said nothing about the ball, at least not to Jean, probably guessing it wasn't a safe topic of discussion. Jean was just thankful Jeremy had better survival instincts than the rest of his team. Jean guessed they were trying to be friendly but he didn't appreciate their nosiness so he simply ignored their questions about the ball until they got the hint and moved on to another topic.

Jeremy had rather focused on convincing Jean to go shopping with him for an apparently much-needed wardrobe update. He went so far as to include Laila in his schemeing.

"Have you ever considered wearing anything besides black?" Laila had asked, not at all ashamed of her unreserved comment.

"No," Jean had answered. 

"Well, you should try red. I really think it would suit you." Laila had winked, and before Jean could oppose her statement, had gotten up and walked over to Alvarez, leaving Jean with a sly Jeremy. 

"It's settled then, we're going shopping."

Jean honestly didn't see the point. He had more than enough suitable clothes. He wasn't in need of anything new, not even now that summer had long-since passed and that autumn was slowly turning to winter. He had stocked up on long sleeves and thin jerseys to wear even during summer to hide his scars. Yes, all of the clothes he owned were black, but he had never really had a choice in the matter. Until now. 

That was how he found himself dragged to some or other clothing store with Jeremy. Jeremy, after giving up in the jeans section, was now eyeing sweaters, running his hands lightly over the soft knitting. He picked up a navy blue one, holding it up to himself to check the size. He looked to Jean, hoping for an opinion.

He wasn't going to get one.

Jeremy shrugged and hung the sweater over his arm, continuing his perusing. 

Jean's eyes slipped over the display of clothing, not really paying attention. Nothing caught his eye as he followed Jeremy through the store. Everything, however, seemed to have caught Jeremy's. His arms were full of sweaters by the time he made his way to the change rooms, leaving Jean to his own devices. 

Jean stood there in the middle of the store, waiting impatiently for Jeremy to finish his little shopping spree, when something caught his eye. A jumper lay half tucked under a stack of sweatshirts. Jean looked to see if Jeremy was going to return anytime soon before tugging the jumper out from under the pile. 

It was gigantic, but, because of Jean's height, he supposed it could work. The sleeves were long and the style simple, made from soft, thick cotton. What had mainly caught his eye was the colour. The jumper was a dark crimson red, nearly the exact shade of Trojan red. Jean couldn't help but hear Laila's comment rerun in his head.

_You should try red. I really think it would suit you._

"Find something?" Jeremy had appeared at Jean's elbow unnoticed, a bag full of purchases in hand. Jean folded the jumper roughly and stuffed it under the pile of sweatshirts. 

"No."

"You sure? I quite liked that actually." 

"Then why don't you buy it?" Jean said non-too-sweetly. 

Jeremy ignored Jean's deflection, giving him a smile, "I would but that thing would swallow me whole."

Jean couldn't think of a clever response, so instead he buried his hands deep into his pockets and made his way towards the shop’s exit. Jeremy followed suit, a smile still playing at the corner of his lips. 

Later on, Jean had entered the bedroom in hopes of finding something to read when he saw a bag on his bed. The shop brand was the same as the shop Jeremy had taken him to.

He tipped the contents out onto his bed and found a pile of sweaters awaiting his attention. Jean noticed one or two of them as the ones Jeremy had chosen, although at the time he had thought they were for Jeremy, not himself. He picked up each sweater carefully, as if afraid they might bite, and studied them individually. Most of their sleeves were longer than usual, and Jeremy had even managed to find a sweatshirt that had holes in the elongated sleeves for his thumbs to stick through. 

Jean thought back to when Jeremy had been watching him watch the movie, wringing his hands around his wrists like shackles. Fingering his scars had become a bad habit, especially when his memory was triggered. Did Jeremy know then? Does he know now? Had Renee or Kevin told him what he'd attempted, what he had planned to do after graduation?

A red sleeve caught Jean's attention, pulling his thoughts back and away from the past. 

Jean ruffled through the pile of sweaters until he unearthed the crimson jumper he had been eyeing in the store earlier. Jeremy had gone back and bought it. 

Jean didn't know what to think. At first, he thought Jeremy had gone too far, but then he stopped himself. Had he, actually? All Jeremy had done was get something for Jean. He'd given him a gift. Jean couldn't remember the last time he had given a gift, let alone received one. He stared at the crimson jumper, speechless, feeling the soft cotton under his fingers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy and Jean visit Destiny... again.

Jeremy was worried he'd gone too far. Maybe he shouldn't have bought the jumper after all. 

Jean hadn't said anything about the bag of sweaters, so Jeremy hadn't either. 

As the weeks continued to pass by, and as the Trojan's continued to keep a steady winning streak (thanks to Jean's drills) winter began to settle in. Meaning Jean would have to start wearing Jeremy's sweaters. 

At first, no one noticed. Jean started with some of the darker sweaters, making them blend in with his usual all-black ensemble. But soon, either by curiosity or because he knew he couldn't wear the same thing over and over again, Jean began to wear the more colourful choices. Bright blues and creamy beiges, a deep plum purple and even the bottle green sweater (although his favourite appeared to be the light grey sweatshirt with the thumb holes). 

Jean still hadn't worn the red jumper. Jeremy didn't ask about it. He knew it was a risky move buying it in the first place and was just thankful Jean hadn't thrown it back his face.

Jeremy just wanted Jean to know that he was there for him, albeit in the least noticeable ways possible: leaving him a slice of cake in the fridge, setting the alarm a few minutes later after a rough night’s sleep, getting Jean a French translation of his favourite book. Jean had finished it in less than a day. It was one of the most enrapturing conversations Jeremy had ever had, sitting and discussing the characters and their choices, the plot twist and finally the ambiguous ending. It was one of the most frustrating yet beautiful pieces of literature Jeremy had ever read. Jean had agreed.

At night, when Jean woke up from one of his nightmares, Jeremy had started switching on the light so they could talk until the sun made an appearance. Sometimes Jean was open for a pointless conversation, other times he’d just get up and disappear for a few hours. Neither man talked about the reason the light was on.

Although Jeremy had said he wanted to take Jean back to Destiny, they hadn't visited the stars since Jeremy had taught him the Cancer constellation. He'd been reading up on his mythology of stars in preparation. 

"You busy tonight?" Jeremy asked without thinking. He was busy re-watching his favourite Star Wars Episode for the umpteenth time when Jean had passed by on the way to the kitchen. Jean looked at Jeremy now as if he were mad. 

"Not like that!" Jeremy laughed, trying to ease some of the tension in Jean's shoulders. It didn't do much good. Jeremy continued anyway, "I just thought, seeing as it's not too cold yet and that it's gonna be a clear night, we could go check out the stars again." 

Jean looked apprehensive, not meeting Jeremy's eyes.

"I promise, no funny business," and Jeremy meant it, in all seriousness. 

Neither of them had spoken about that night, the heat that had licked Jeremy from his toes up, how Jean's gaze had been so open, so willing to listen to Jeremy ramble on about his star sign. How their fingers had brushed causing Jeremy's stomach to bottom out. Jeremy highly doubted Jean had felt the same, knowing for a fact that whatever had occurred between the two of them had to be one-sided. Why else would Jean be so unwilling to talk about it? It was stupid of Jeremy to even consider that he could – That maybe Jean would – No. Why would he? 

Jeremy could never expect something like that from Jean. He was only recently becoming familiar with the team, joining them when they went out for supper, staying for movie night occasionally. He even joined Jeremy and Laila for breakfast one time, a smile tugging at his lips, begging to split into a laugh when Laila had told the story about how Alvarez got stuck in a garbage truck when she was five.

"I mean, honestly, I knew she was a tough kid," (Alvarez was the only girl in a family of three brothers), "but I just can't understand how she could think that jumping into a garbage truck on a dare would end well!" Laila had nearly snorted her coffee out of her nose during her re-telling of the story, causing Jeremy to pour his syrup everywhere but his pancakes. Jean hadn't said much, but his eyes had talked a whole lot. 

Jeremy looked to see what Jean's eyes said now, but couldn't meet Jean's gaze. The silence where Jean contemplated his answers had become a regular interlude in their conversations. It had become part of the routine; Jeremy waited while Jean considered. 

Jean's answer was brisk and firm, "Fine, but no cheat sheets allowed." 

Jeremy smiled. "What cheat sheet?" 

***

They took Jean's car, driving in silence save for the radio Jeremy had put on at Jean's nod of approval. A late-night show blasted songs of all genres as they drove on. 

Jeremy didn't need to direct Jean, who apparently remembered the route. Soon, they were at the empty field, the stars hanging overhead, beckoning them to take a look. Jean cut the gas but left the radio on. 

Jeremy got out first with Jean just behind him, and the two sat on the hood of the car and looked up. Silence enveloped them, save for the occasional crackle and audible lyric of a song from the radio. It felt comforting and natural. 

Jeremy shivered, wishing he'd worn something warmer. He hadn't thought to bring a coat. Jean, on the other hand, looked snug wearing a heavy black winter coat buttoned up to his neck, a black scull cap pulled over his ears and a grey scarf topping off his whole ensemble. His black combat boots kicked a random syncopation on the front of his car. Jean was glancing at Jeremy out of the corner of his eye.

"Cold?" Jean sounded as uninterested as usual and yet the fact he'd asked the question in the first place immediately caught Jeremy's attention.

"Course not," Jeremy said, shivering. He could feel his words shaking.

Jean considered Jeremy a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching. He murmured something that could have been French under his breath before unbuttoning his coat. 

"You're a terrible liar."

"Some might say that's a good thing," Jeremy mumbled as Jean handed over his coat. 

"No, it’s fine. You really don't have to –"

"I'm not taking it back Jeremy so might as well put it on." The way Jean said his name - his accent over-pronouncing the _j_ , skipping over the _r_ and running to the _my_ which sounded like _mae_ on Jean's tongue - it didn't matter that Jean was practically bullying Jeremy into wearing his coat.

Jeremy shivered again, but not from the cold. He slipped on Jean's coat, which was two sizes too big thanks to his height, and willed himself to get a grip. It was just an accent. 

That's when Jeremy noticed the shock of red. Jean was wearing the crimson jumper. 

The words slipped out before Jeremy could take them back, "Laila was right, you do look good in red." 

Jean said nothing, but he didn't appear upset either. Jeremy first mistook the pinkish tone on Jean's nose and cheeks as a blush, then quickly dismissed the idea and corrected himself. It was cold out. Jeremy probably looked the same although he knew the cold only partly contributed the flush up his neck.

 _Don’t let your imagination run away with you, Jeremy._

"It appears Laila is quite good at her deductions," Jean said, distracting himself by looking up again. His eyes reflected the stars perfectly, like mirrors, directing destiny wherever it chose. 

Maybe that wasn't the only thing Laila was right about. 

Jeremy was about to say so when Jean interrupted him, drawing a picture in the sky with his finger. "That is Scorpius if I remember correctly?" 

Jeremy was caught off guard. 

"Hm?"

"Your cheat sheet," Jean stated. "It showed constellations like Scorpius and Ursa Major, I got interested. I looked them up," Jean sounded unsure of himself as if he didn't know what he was doing. Little did he know Jeremy had done the same, hoping to impress Jean with his plagiarised facts from Wikipedia. 

"And?" Jeremy asked, hoping Jean would continue with whatever it was he was going to say.

"It's fascinating," Jean said, his eyebrows closely knit together as if he couldn't believe it was true. "The mythology behind it goes hand in hand with some of my Greek studies. Scorpius, for instance," he re-drew the constellation. Jeremy recognised it instantly. "Apparently, Gaia, the earth goddess, was upset with Orion. About what, I can't remember,"

"He wanted to hunt every living creature on earth," Jeremy said, quickly adding, "I remember reading it somewhere." 

_Smooth._

Jean waited for a moment, uncertain, before deciding to continue the story. Jeremy was glad he did. "She was so angry, Gaia, for Orion's treachery that she sent a giant scorpion after him. Orion lost, and, by killing him, Gaia rewarded the scorpion by placing his image in the night sky. A hero's reward for the mighty winner." 

"The one I like best is Ursa Major's," Jeremy said, hoping to keep the conversation flowing. “You see," Jeremy said, getting into the story-telling mode he usually used on his younger siblings, "Jupiter loved this nymph called Calisto. Unfortunately, this made his wife, Juno, terribly jealous and so she bestowed her wrath upon the apparently-beautiful Calisto by turning her into a bear,” Jeremy risked a peek at Jean, hoping he wasn’t boring him. Jean tipped his head to one side, watching Jeremy watching him. He lifted his chin, indicating for Jeremy to go on. Jeremy quickly tore his gaze away. 

“Well, now, what happened next is, Arcas, Calisto’s son, found her in bear form and, well, he nearly shot her. To prevent any harm done to either son or mother, Jupiter turned Arcas into a bear as well and placed him and his beloved Calisto into the night sky,” Jeremy lifted his head and, having spotted the constellation, began drawing the two of them. At this point he didn’t care if Jean was listening or not, just the fact that he was here at all was good enough for Jeremy. 

“Could you start again?” Jeremy stopped short. Jean had moved over, his shoulder a breath away from Jeremy’s, barely any space between the two. Jeremy could still feel the heat radiate off of Jean even through his thick coat. Jean’s thick coat that he had given Jeremy because he was cold. 

_Stop it, concentrate. No funny business, remember?_

Jeremy sucked in a deep breath and raised his hand to begin the constellation again. 

“You start off with a box –“

“Here?” Jean had raised his hand to trail after Jeremy’s, again not touching but that didn’t make the heat any less inviting. 

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, trying to mask his shudder. He was cold, that’s all, “And you draw a box, that makes up Calisto’s body.”

The two men sat, hands trailing after one another, never touching. They drew pictures in the sky with only whispers and the faint crackling of the radio to break the silence. 

They drew all of the constellations on Jeremy’s cheat sheet, listing all the stories and facts they knew about their history (Jeremy caught himself staring at Jean with a complete open interest more than once). 

Whwen they’d both run out of facts, Jeremy began to ramble about his family. He didn’t know why it was honestly just the first thing to pop into his head, what with Christmas coming up so soon. That lead Jeremy to wonder what Jean was going to be doing for the holidays. He didn’t ask. He knew it was probably something Jean wouldn’t want to discuss. Instead, he spoke in full detail about all of his siblings, especially Millie. He voiced his worries about her, how she was feeling confused about herself and wanted to be like Jeremy, so sure of himself and always knowing what to do, “But that’s the thing,” Jeremy found himself whispering, “I’m not.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Knox,” Jean said. His words were rough around the edges but Jeremy could hear Jean was trying to understand, to ease Jeremy’s thoughts. Jeremy appreciated it more than he could voice.

“But I’m not. I’m not trying to be modest, honestly, you should have seen me my first month as captain…” Jeremy trailed off. His first season as captain overall had been successful, what with the Trojans coming second in finals after a long streak of being placed third, but only due to major consequences only Coach Rhemann and Laila were privy to. 

“I was a mess. I’d spend whatever free time I had thinking up new plays and strategies, even during the occasional English lecture. I constantly tried to listen to everyone’s ideas, not wanting anyone to feel left out because god knows I know how that felt. I stayed for hours after practice trying to perfect whatever it was I’d gotten wrong, with little success. I usually ended up in a heap on the court, too panic-driven to pick up my racket.” 

Jean was staying eerily quiet during all of this. Jeremy didn’t know if that was a sign to continue or not. Either way, he had to finish what he started. He trusted Jean to stop him if it became too much.

“My hands would begin to shake, my knees would buckle and my vision would begin to blur. I couldn’t see anything, and my helmet made me feel suffocated. Half the time I couldn’t get it off and that would only make it worse. 

“Eventually, Coach Rhemann found out. Laila tipped him off. How she found out, I don’t know. But I’m glad she did,” Jeremy finally stole a glance at Jean. Jean’s face was blank, his mouth a taught, barely-there line. His eyes were dark storm clouds, about to erupt with thunder and lightning. 

Jeremy thought maybe it was best to not continue but then Jean nodded his head. He wanted to hear the rest. 

Jeremy’s breath hitched.

“I don’t know what would have happened if Coach hadn’t found out. At the time I was scared if he did, he’d remove captaincy from me. I mean, I’d gone through so much, and it was the first real happy thing I had in a long time. It was something I loved being, I actually felt like myself when I was on the court, helping my teammates, talking to coach. I think he knew that, and I guess that’s why he gave me a second chance (with mandatory guidance counselling once a week).” Not even Laila knew that part of the deal. 

“The rest is history after that,” Jeremy said quickly, hoping to wrap up his unannounced confession. “I got better, got a lot less stressed out, Laila helped take some of the weight off my shoulders by being unofficial vice-captain, and together we lead the Trojan’s to second place in finals.” Jeremy could feel Jean’s eyes boring into him, and didn’t care if he saw the sad little smile he knew was on his lips. Usually, he wore his fan-made smile, the one for the press and friends and fans. The one that had become a habit. This was a whole other expression. 

Jean said nothing, although he kept his gaze on Jeremy. 

Music filtered from the radio, a tune that sounded familiar, although Jeremy couldn’t place it. He was about to ask Jean if he perhaps knew when he heard humming. Jean was humming along with the melody, singing the occasional lyric under his breath. His gaze was set firmly to the ground, as if he realised he’d been boring into Jeremy’s side, leaving him bare. 

“What’s it called?” Jeremy whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment. 

“La vie en Rose, by Edith Piaf. Maman would sing it when she was in the kitchen.” 

Jeremy was taken aback. 

Jean had never mentioned his parents, and with good reason. Jeremy had always figured when Jean did open up about them that it would be with scorn and anger from their betrayal. Being sold off to pay a debt and then never spoken to again, that wasn’t reality. It was a horror story. And yet it was Jean’s reality. And now here he was, talking about how his mother would sing in the kitchen, no scorn or anger or any sign of betrayal in his voice whatsoever, only tenderness. This was a whole other side to Jean; a part Jeremy knew was rare in occurrence and unlikely to happen again anytime soon. 

“She was always experimenting in the kitchen,” Jean said, quietly, almost to himself more than to Jeremy, “Always baking, much like you.” Jeremy looked up just as Jean did and their eyes met for a second before Jean ducked his head down again, continuing, “But she was a terrible cook.” 

Jeremy couldn’t help it, a small chuckle escaped, tickling his lips. Jean looked up and Jeremy saw the corners of his mouth twitching. 

“My father made sure to comment on it whenever they were in the kitchen together, but he always said it like it only meant ‘I love you’,” at that Jean immediately went silent. 

Jeremy didn’t know what to say to make it go away. Jean’s father was the reason Jean became a Raven, the reason he bore those hidden scars and muffled his screams at night. The reason he no longer had a family. The reason he can never go home again. 

The song was coming to an end, the last notes trickling away while the woman’s voice softened into silence. 

Jeremy still didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he could say anything after what Jean confessed. 

“I want to cover them,” Jean said suddenly, interrupting the radio host’s unnecessary comments on the time and weather and current events. 

“What do you want to be covered?”

Jean didn’t answer, instead, he rubbed at his wrists under the sleeves of his jersey. His scars. He wanted to cover his scars. 

“I was thinking of getting a tattoo, something to make them a little more bearable,” Jean was looking at nothing in particular, his gaze unfocused as he continued to wring his hands around his wrists, creating shackles of bone and flesh.

This was something Jeremy could talk about.

“I actually know a tattoo artist. He’s pretty good, always up for a challenge,” Jeremy immediately regretted that last part. 

But the one corner of Jean’s lips tipped up, only noticeable if one were as close as Jeremy was now. 

“Then it’s settled.” Jean fixed his gaze on Jeremy once more and now Jeremy could see the full effect of the barely-there smile on Jean’s lips. It was both heart-warming and heart-breaking at the same time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean asks Renee for some advice.

JEAN MOREAU Hello

Delivered 12:09  
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RENEE WALKER Hello, everything all right?

Delivered 12:09  
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JEAN MOREAU Yes, just can’t sleep

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RENEE WALKER Have you tried a warm cup of tea with honey and lemon? That usually does the trick for me

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JEAN MOREAU I think you know that won’t really help

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RENEE WALKER What’s troubling you?

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JEAN MOREAU I’m getting my scars tattooed over tomorrow

Delivered 12:19  
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RENEE WALKER That’s a big step! I can’t tell you how happy that makes me to hear you’re taking a leap like that

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JEAN MOREAU Thank you. The only thing is, I still can’t decide on what to get

Delivered 12:21  
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RENEE WALKER Tattoos are a big commitment, so I can understand why you’re nervous. The best advice I can give you is that if it means something to you, if it represents something that’s always in your heart, you’ll never regret it.

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JEAN MOREAU There might be something. I may have to discuss it with the artist, see if it’s doable.

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RENEE WALKER If it means something special to you, and if it’s a good artist, then you can't go wrong 

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JEAN MOREAU The artist is a friend of Jeremy’s. He showed me some of his portfolio work, it’s quite impressive

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RENEE WALKER How is that working for you by the way?

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JEAN MOREAU What?  
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RENEE WALKER Rooming with Jeremy, being at USC, playing with the Trojans. You haven’t really spoken about them much; I just wanted to make sure that you’re comfortable. 

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Oh! And congratulations so far with your games, you’re all doing spectacularly. Red suits you 

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JEAN MOREAU You’re not the first to say that… Everything is going better than it was in the beginning. I’m still getting used to it all. They seem understanding. Or at least, patient. It’s all a little disorientating

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RENEE WALKER It will take some getting used to. But I think, given some time, you’ll begin to feel a little more comfortable 

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And Jeremy?

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JEAN MOREAU He won’t stop baking. 

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RENEE WALKER Really? Is he any good?

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JEAN MOREAU His chocolate cake is promising, but you didn’t hear that from me

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RENEE WALKER Of course not :)

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Is he coming with you? To the tattoo parlor?

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JEAN MOREAU He’s insisting. For “moral support” and “just in case”.

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RENEE WALKER Well then, you couldn’t be in safer hands. 

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JEAN MOREAU No, I suppose not

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But you could certainly give him a run for his money

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RENEE WALKER To be honest, I don’t think so.

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Would you be willing to send a picture once you’re done?

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JEAN MOREAU Of course

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RENEE WALKER Thank you. I hope all goes well and I hope you know how happy I am for you.

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Do you think you might be able to get some sleep?

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JEAN MOREAU We’ll have to wait to see. 

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Thank you for everything

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RENEE WALKER My prayers are always with you.

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Please try the tea with lemon. If not to fall asleep, then for the sake that it tastes delicious. 

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And if all else fails, I’m sure Jeremy is willing to talk as well.

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JEAN MOREAU I will try, the tea that is.

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And he is, I just don’t know if I am yet. But thank you. 

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Good night, and good luck for your upcoming game.

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RENEE WALKER Good night, and thank you. I’d wish you luck but I think we both know you don’t need it x 

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JEAN MOREAU Sorry, one last thing

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RENEE WALKER Yes?

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JEAN MOREAU Out of all of the colours in your hair, which is your favourite, if you could only choose one?

Delivered 1:03  
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RENEE WALKER There’s this new pink Allison helped me pick out. It’s very soft, like cotton candy almost. Pastel Rose, I think it’s called. How come?

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JEAN MOREAU Just had an idea. Might save it for another time. Good night

Delivered 1:05  
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RENEE WALKER All right. Good night

Delivered 1:06  
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	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy's more nervous about Jean's tattoo than Jean is.

“So you’re absolutely positive?”

“Yes, Knox.”

“Because, I mean, once it’s on, it’s on. There’s no going back and, I mean, there’s no shame in waiting a little while longer,” they were walking to the door of the tattoo parlour, having just parked Jean’s car. Jean dug his hands deeper into his jeans pockets, hoping to hide the clench in his fists and the shaking of his fingers. For the first time in a long time, he felt nervous. The good kind of nervous. He was excited. Jeremy, however, looked like he was about to go free-falling off a cliff. 

He wouldn’t stop rambling.

“I mean, it’s a pretty big commitment and I just, well, not that you don’t know that,” Jean felt the flicker of Jeremy’s eyes skidding over his cheek before quickly retreating back to the parlour. He didn’t have to look at Jeremy to know when his gaze was on him. He just knew. Just like how he knew this was the right thing to do. 

Yes his stomach was in knots, yes he knew what it meant to get something permanent and regret it every day after. Jean wanted to know what it felt like to get something he wanted and not regret it but appreciate it. He wanted to do something for himself.

“Knox,” he said, interrupting Jeremy's babbling, “It’s going to be fine. It’s just a needle.”

Jeremy gulped so audibly Jean would have thought he was swallowing a lump of lead. Jean could see the fear in Jeremy’s eyes and then that’s when realisation hit.

Jeremy was afraid of needles. 

“Knox,” Jean said again, a little more quietly. He didn’t like seeing this foreign look in Jeremy’s eyes. Fear didn’t suit the captain. “I’ll be fine. You and I both know I’ve been through a lot worse,” Jean looked down at his pockets before withdrawing his hands. Placing one of them lightly on Jeremy’s shoulder, he gave a quick, reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be fine.” And for some reason, Jean believed it. Immediately, his stomach uncoiled. He felt the cool breeze of winter brush his cheeks, his overgrown bangs brushing over his eyes. He needed a haircut.

Jeremy’s shoulders slumped down, all tension gone at Jean’s touch.

“You’re right," Jeremy mumbled, "You’re right, I’m sorry. Being stupid.” Jean withdrew his hand and reached for the handle of the parlour door, “No you weren’t. You were just doing your job.” Before Jeremy could comment, Jean stepped through the door and made his way to the desk, checking in for his appointment. 

***

Jeremy couldn’t stop staring at the words. Jean’s new ink was still covered in gauze and tape, but Jeremy knew what was written there in an old scrawl that looked like something from a Shakespearian sonnet: Voler Librement. Fly Free. One word per tattered wrist. 

Jeremy had cringed every time the needle had met Jean’s skin, had kept trying to avert his gaze and yet couldn’t stand to look away in fear of something going wrong. What if the needle slipped? What if Jean hated the tattoos? What if his scars opened up again? Jeremy knew this last worry was improbable, and yet he couldn’t let it escape his mind. Even now he feared he’d see blood appear from under the gauze, blossoming like some deadly rose. But when he chanced another look there was nothing, just the clean white surface of the gauze. 

No one had said anything when the two of them arrived to practice the next day, mainly because Jean hid what he could under the sleeves of his crimson jumper. Laila had winked at Jeremy non-to subtly when she spotted Jean’s choice in clothing. It was only when everyone started changing out for practice that Jeremy could feel everyone’s gaze pull towards the shocking white of Jean’s tape. No one said anything, but the looks were obvious. If Jean noticed, he didn't voice his opinion. He didn’t even give his usual scowl either but rather got dressed efficiently and walked out to the court with Jeremy swiftly behind him. He just didn't seem to care, full stop.

This was Jeremy's final year at USC, his final year as captain of the Trojans. One thing he had promised himself and the rest of his team is that he would ensure they wouldn't regret their time as a Trojan. Looking at the stern set of Jean's shoulders underneath all of his padding, Jeremy only hoped that Jean was learning to breathe a little easier. He wanted to ask if Jean was happy but knew it wasn’t really the time for that. He only hoped some day it would be.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean gets used to his new ink.

Jean hesitated before he took off the tape. He’d changed it multiple times over the last few days as his skin began to heal, the ink peeking out at him.

He’d almost given up trying to find something to give to the tattoo artist the night before his appointment when he’d remembered a song (more specifically, it’s title). Volar Libre. It was by some or other Spanish singer. Jean had come across the song by accident while he was still trying to grasp the basics of YouTube. He only knew a few words but when he’d read the title Jean immediately knew what the song was about. Volar libre. Fly free. It was almost exactly the same as the French translation. That was what had popped into his mind as he’d laid awake at one o’clock in the morning. It was those words he thought of as he searched for fonts to write it in. It was those words he said over and over again as he and Jeremy drove to the tattoo parlour. It was those words that he looked down at now, those words that covered his scars almost perfectly. You wouldn’t even notice they were there unless you knew where to look.

He felt lightheaded just looking at them. 

Jean let the corners of his mouth uplift; letting a sigh of relief escape. He’d done something for himself, he’d actually set it up and followed through. And he was happy, even if it was just for a little while. 

“Am I seeing things or did you get tattoos?” Laila said, reaching her hands out as Jean walked into the living room. He didn’t realise Jeremy had invited Laila and Alvarez over. When he gave Jeremy a look, Jeremy gave a nervous shrug. It seemed Laila and Alvarez had invited themselves. 

Alvarez was nursing a beer, leaning against the kitchen counter, “No shit! Moreau got inked?”

Laila’s hands were still open, waiting for Jean to hand over his wrists for inspection. He could see Jeremy out of the corner of his eye. His shoulders were tense as if waiting for something bad to happen; for Laila to bully Jean into showing his wrists, for Jean to yank them away just as Laila noticed the scars. 

Jean was hesitant but decided to take another leap. 

He placed his hands, palm up, into Laila’s, bearing his wrists and their new instalment. 

Laila studied the ink from a distance, her eyes gliding over the written words. A small smile tugged at her mouth. 

“Whose handwriting is it?” she asked.

“I found it online. I wanted something old-fashioned.”

Laila nodded and then lowered her hands, leaving Jean’s to hang midair a second before he took them back as well. 

“It’s a nice choice.” Again with that look. Understanding. How could she possibly understand? 

“What does it say?” Alvarez asked, staying put in the kitchen. She was still a little wary around Jean, although once or twice they’d managed to have short-lived conversations. Jean didn’t know whether to distrust her or respect her. Perhaps a little bit of both. 

“Voler Librement. Fly Free,” he said, coming over towards the kitchen and placing his forearms, wrists up, on the kitchen counter. He got goose bumps as his skin met the cold counter top. Alvarez kept her distance on the opposite side of the counter, resting on her elbows with her beer between her hands. She peeked over the top of the can, peering down at Jean’s wrists. 

“Nice choice,” she said, echoing Laila’s words, before draining her can and throwing it away. 

“Come on babe, I think we’ve trespassed long enough,” Alvarez said, smirking at Jeremy before leaving out the front door. 

“See you Jer. Jean,” Laila said, getting up and following Alvarez out the door.

“Thanks for the beer!” Alvarez yelled from the hallway before Laila shut the door. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said almost immediately. 

Jean was caught off guard by Alvarez for a moment. He turned to face Jeremy, “For what?”

“They kinda let themselves in and I knew you were busy with…” Jeremy trailed off. His eyes darted from Jean's face to his wrists, then quickly back again. 

Silence filled the room. Jean didn’t know what to say. 

Jean knew more about Jeremy Knox than he cared to admit. He knew about Jeremy’s family, the names of all his siblings. He knew Jeremy’s favourite colour was yellow, and not just any shade but the shade of the sun. He knew Jeremy started baking when he was six, his mom teaching him the basics before slowly adding to his repertoire. He knew Jeremy had been afraid of the dark until he was eight and believed in Santa until he was eleven (his older sister had told him in spite during an argument). Jeremy had cried the whole night. He knew Jeremy hated wearing his glasses in public and only used them in the dorms. He knew Jeremy had been bullied at school. He knew the toll those kids’ “harmless” teasing had put on a young Jeremy Knox’s confidence. He knew Jeremy still visited his psychiatrist once a month and that no one but Jean and Coach Rhemann was privy to such information. 

Jean knew all of this and yet Jeremy knew nothing about him. When Jean woke up in the middle of the night it was because he could still feel the bite of a knife slipping under his skin, feel Riko’s breath on his sweat-drenched neck, men telling him to keep still if he knew what was good for him. Again and again. The number three burning behind Jean’s eyelids long after he was wide awake. That was when Jeremy talked. Those conversations were the closest Jean had ever come to really talking to anyone. 

When he was at Evermore, and when Kevin was still with him, he had taught Kevin French so they could communicate between plays or in the middle of the night when neither could sleep. For when after Riko was finished testing out his new knives on Jean, Kevin helping him clean up the mess and prepare him for practice. 

Although they had spoken, Jean realised now that they had never _spoken_. They had never actually talked; about their past, about their childhoods. Kevin was the closest thing Jean had had to a friend and yet he still didn’t know what Kevin’s favourite colour was. 

Jeremy was looking at Jean now, worry tinting his eyes. Jeremy was always worried about Jean when he had no reason to be. Jeremy had no obligation to look out for Jean. And yet he did. 

He took Jean to see the stars and told him facts Jean already knew. He left slices of his latest concoctions in the fridge “in case Jean wanted to try some”; even though Jean had told him multiple times about the negative effects of sugar. He stayed up with Jean all night if it meant keeping Jean away from his nightmares, talking about whatever popped into his head first, no matter how ridiculous. He tried (and failed) to make Jean smile. He still tries. And here he was now; Jeremy Knox, Captain of the USC Trojans, apologising to Jean for letting his closest friends into his dorm room simply because he knew Jean was hesitant about showing his wrists. 

“It’s fine.” Jean didn’t know what else to say. 

Jeremy still looked hesitant, worry etched in the downturn of his mouth. 

“Knox,” Jean said, making his way to Jeremy slowly. He didn’t know what he was doing. For once he wasn’t stopping to think, to calculate exactly what to say without giving too much away. 

“Knox,” he said again, trying to catch Jeremy’s eye, “It’s the reason I got the tattoos, so I wouldn’t have to hide anymore.” Jean fingered his sleeves, rubbing his thumb over his inner wrist. “You’re the reason I was able to do that.”

Jeremy finally looked up. His eyes were startlingly blue, crisper and clearer than Jean had even seen them. 

“What?” Jeremy’s question was barely a whisper.

“You know why I put these words where I did,” Jean was slowly pulling his sleeves up once again, turning his wrists up so he could see the ink. “I’m not proud of what I did, of what I tried to do. I understand why I tried but I’m still not proud. I didn’t like having a constant reminder of what had happened, of what lead me to think –“ Jean cut himself off. He stopped himself from wringing his wrists, afraid that the ink might come off. 

“I realised I needed to move forward. You made me realise I needed to move forward.” Jean was hinting at the night of the movie, of the way he had reacted and the way Jeremy had tried to help. Had helped. Jean was not going to acknowledge that night, and Jeremy knew that. Jeremy nodded ever so slightly; indicating that he knew what Jean was talking about all the same. 

“I wanted to a find a way to accept what had happened. It might take some time but I think I will be able to some day.” Jean looked at his wrists again, trailing the scripture with his eyes. “You helped me take that first step.”

Jeremy looked frozen. With what Jean didn’t know. Emotions were tumbling a million miles a minute on Jeremy’s face. 

Jean thought perhaps he had said too much. That he’d opened up too quickly, too willingly. Jean began to recede, thinking perhaps Jeremy didn’t actually want to know anything about him when Jeremy said, “It’s what Laila did for me. When she saw how much strain I was taking by being captain. It’s what any decent person would do, for someone they – For a friend.“ 

Jean ignored Jeremy’s quick change in words and said, “I suppose we are.”

“Friends?” Jeremy asked, confusion wiping away a little of his concern.

“If you insist, Knox,” Jean said, making his to the bedroom. He didn’t sound rude or dismissive if anything he sounded mocking like the way Alvarez would joke with Laila or how Jeremy’s sarcasm got the better of him. He heard Jeremy chuckle under his breath and looked over his shoulder. He couldn’t see Jeremy but Jean knew he was most likely grinning from ear to ear. He was about to turn into the bedroom when he stopped. The bathroom door was directly opposite the bedroom's, with the mirror in Jean's line of sight. It gave Jean a perfect view of his profile.

It was small, someone who didn’t know Jean would hardly recognise it but Jean knew his face from a far-too-often scrutinising glare. It was barely there but all the same, he was smiling.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trojans celebrate their final fall-season match, Jeremy contemplates his "acquaintanceship" with Jean.

The Trojan’s final match was an easy win (thanks to Jean’s and Jeremy’s guidance) securing them a winning streak of all of their fall-season games. The game had flown past in blurry shades of red and blue, the Trojan’s pulling out all the stops and the Berkley Bears just unable to keep up. The press went wild, roping Jeremy and Jean in for post-game interviews. Jean had only answered one or two questions before one interviewer crossed the line, asking how they felt about the Ravens. Jeremy could hear Jean’s chest rattle at the mention of his former team. 

Jean didn’t even bother to listen to the whole of the interviewer’s question. As soon as he heard the word “Raven” he excused himself quietly and made his way to the change room, trying to ignore the questions flung at his back. Jeremy stayed on to quickly round up the last few questions, ignoring the press’s “concerns” about Jean.

Jeremy found Jean sitting on one of the benches in the change room; all of the other Trojans were busy washing up.

Jeremy tried only once to get Jean to talk about it but as soon as Jean dismissed Jeremy’s questions and concerns Jeremy stopped talking altogether. He knew from experience that no words of comfort would ever sway Jean unless Jean wanted them too. No meant no. 

They sat in silence, waiting out the rest of the team. Once everyone had left for the dorms, giving each other backslapping congratulations, Jean got up and made his way to the showers. 

Just last week Jean had called Jeremy his friend and yet here Jeremy was, unable to break through the impenetrable glass of Jean’s smokescreen. Just the other day he’d heard Jean chuckle under his breath at a joke Jeremy had made in passing. Jeremy had taken a double take at the sound. When he’d looked again, the screen was put back in place, but there was a challenge in Jean’s eye. A glint of something… different. Now Jeremy felt like he was back at the beginning of summer when Jean had first come to USC with Renee Walker on his heals. Saying nothing to no one except the rainbow-haired goalie. What did Renee know that Jeremy didn’t? Did she somehow relate to Jean better? Jeremy knew her being a Fox meant her past could not be all clean, but just how dirty was it that she was able to relate to Jean? 

“Knox, are you coming?” Jeremy looked up. Jean was fully dressed, his hair two shades darker and wet from the shower. Jean’s hair was naturally wavy, so whenever he came out of the shower, his hair always curled slightly. Jeremy didn’t know why but he wanted to run his hands through Jean’s hair. 

“Knox? Are you awake?” Jean sounded more like himself, irritation replacing passiveness. That’s when Jeremy realised he was still sitting in his Exy uniform on the bench. He must have lost track of time. 

“Yeah, I was just – I got caught up in my thoughts,” Jeremy searched Jean’s eyes to see if any of his steely façade was still left. Jean always had his guard up but Jeremy had come to notice when Jean let it down a little; when the hard line of his mouth softened just slightly and his shoulders weren’t so tense. Jean was still irritable but more due to Jeremy’s slowness than the interview. 

“Well, you best hurry unless you want the rest of the team to celebrate without you,” Jean said, ignoring Jeremy’s obvious daze. 

“Are you gonna come?”

“Perhaps, if you’ll at least shower and get moving already,” Jean said, flinging his towel in the hamper and making his way out of the change room, “Ten minutes Knox and then I’m leaving without you.” 

The Trojan’s final game had been a home game, meaning only a ten-minute walk back to campus. However, Jeremy showered so quickly he rubbed his skin raw. He’d regret it in the morning but right now he just didn’t want to walk back to Campus alone in the cold. 

Jean was sitting with the radio on, the only car left in the parking lot. They must have been here longer than Jeremy thought. Jean turned the key in the ignition once he spotted Jeremy, saying, “Bouge ton cul," in a taunting tone. What little school-required French Jeremy had learned in High School was long gone, however, he could tell that what Jean was saying was probably along the lines of “Move your ass.“

Jeremy sat down in the passenger seat and immediately recognised the radio station as the one from their second trip to Destiny but said nothing as Jean drove to the campus. The Trojan’s would celebrate on till far too early in the morning, not caring about the consequences of heavy liquor and loud music. Tonight they proved themselves worthy of placing first in the Championships, and they were going to keep working until they did.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy's a bit of a mess at the Christmas Banquet.

Jean looked at himself in the mirror of the bathroom, checking that his suit didn’t have any marks or loose seems. The dark blue suited him, off-setting the grey of his eyes and the dark brown of his hair, making all the colours seem a richer hue. 

Laila had insisted on helping him find a new suit for the Christmas banquet, that and a date. Jean had agreed on the suit on the terms that Laila dropped the subject of dates. The Ravens had never been permitted to bring dates to the banquets, having to stick to their formation like a flock of birds. Not even Riko had ever brought a date, choosing to rather fly solo with Jean at his right hand side. It had given him more power.

Jean shook his head, clearing his thoughts. 

“Have you seen my tie?” Jeremy appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, hair disheveled and shirt untucked. He was still wearing his glasses, which were now askew on his nose.

“Have you seen yourself?” Jean asked, smoothing down his lapels before turning to face Jeremy, “You’re a mess.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Jeremy said, sarcasm dripping down his front. It almost made him appear doubly disheveled. 

“Your buttons,” Jean said, ignoring Jeremy’s snide remark. 

“What?” 

“Your buttons, Knox,” Jean indicated Jeremy’s shirt. Jeremy had done his buttons wrong, leaving one side longer than the other. 

Jean sidestepped past Jeremy out of the bathroom, “You weren’t such a mess at the last banquet.”

“I know. I have a lot on my mind right now and I just – Ah ha! Found it!” Jeremy came out of the bathroom with a tie in hand, “I don’t know how it ended up in there, it must have –“ Jeremy clamped his mouth shut with a snap. 

Jean looked at Jeremy, wondering what had put Jeremy’s rambling to such an abrupt end. At first, Jean could not find what Jeremy was looking at. He seemed to be looking at something behind Jean but when Jean turned around all he found was the couch and the wall. When Jean turned back to face Jeremy it clicked. Jeremy was looking at Jean. 

“New suit?” Jeremy squeaked. Jean had never heard Jeremy sound so anxious. It was just a suit.

“Yes, Laila helped me pick it out.”

“Right,” they stood there, staring at each other for how long, Jean didn’t know. Long enough it seems for Laila to come looking for the two of them.

“What’s holding you guys up?” Laila walked in unannounced, her silver dress sparkling in the last light of dusk. Her blonde hair was in loose curls, framing her face. Jean could only imagine the looks she’d receive at the above mid-thigh length of her dress 

“Am I interrupting something?” She asked, placing her hands on her hips. She glanced between Jean and Jeremy and then did a double take with Jeremy again. 

“Jer? You’re a mess! What’s wrong with you?” 

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself,” Jeremy said, his smile unable to hide the shake in his voice. He quickly glanced at Jean out of the corner of his eye before holding out his tie for Laila, “Would you do the honors?”

“Well, first we’ve got to fix your shirt. Technically we’ve got to fix your everything,” Laila _tsked_ as she began to undo and redo Jeremy’s buttons, swatting his hands away when he tried to take over the task. 

Jean averted his eyes, waiting for Laila to finish with Jeremy. 

“There,” Laila said, stepping back. Jeremy looked like a completely different person. For one, his shirt was now properly buttoned and tucked in, secondly, his blazer was neat and thirdly, his hair styled magically to look like the right kind of disheveled. His light blue shirt almost matched the colour of his eyes. Almost. 

Laila gave Jean a once over.

“Looking good Jean,” Laila said with a wink.

“I had a little… professional help,” Jean said, the corners of his lips beginning to tilt up, but not quite. 

“Well, if you’re both sorted, let’s get going. The sooner we get there the sooner we can start on Alverez’s secret liquor stash. 

The Trojans were hosting their district’s Christmas banquet this year and they had pulled out all the stops to really make the court festive. The girl’s had planned for weeks what the court would like, procuring all of the materials and making evenings out of the assembling of the decorations. Their hard work had paid off and the court was transformed into a whole other world. 

Whilst the air chilled with winter, unless you were situated near the mountains, South Carolina hardly ever experienced any real snow. The girls had decided to bring the snow to the court, however, placing delicately cut snowflakes all along the walls and hanging or wrapping a beaded, gauzy material on every available surface to imitate snow. Jean was afraid their attempts would end up looking as gaudy as every other year’s winter banquet, however, the girl’s had managed to keep the theme simple and even elegant. 

Jeremy’s eyes widened as he first laid eyes on the court, his mouth parting slightly. Jean mock-scoffed at his reaction and continued to the court, not checking to see if Jeremy was following. 

A few of the teams had already arrived, milling about and talking to one another in small groups.

Laila had found Alvarez, her arm loosely wrapped around the other girl’s waist. Their outfits complimented each others immensely, with Laila’s blonde hair and silver backless dress contrasting perfectly to Alvarez’s chocolate brown curls and deep midnight blue floor-length skirt. Jean didn’t know much about women’s fashion, but he did know those two would be the best dressed tonight.

Jeremy finally caught up to Jean, having greeted a half dozen different people on his way to the court. 

“The girls did a really good job,” Jeremy said, grinning from ear to ear.

Jean hummed his agreement. Jeremy was about to say something when he spotted Alvarez and Laila; what at first appeared to be a polite conversation had they apparently turned into a pretty heated argument, about what Jean didn’t know. Jeremy started walking towards them to intercept the discussion, so Jean followed. It was a habit. 

As they neared the small group of people, Jean heard snippets of Laila’s one-sided speech before Alvarez piped up and added her say. They appeared to be having a heady discussion about LGBT representation in the NCAA with the team from Belmonte. Belmonte looked as if they were being lectured to rather than having a polite discussion, one or two of them slowly making their way to the edge of the circle in order to make a break for it. 

“Alvarez, you look amazing,” Jeremy said, coming in quickly seeing as Alvarez looked as if she were about to punch someone if they weren’t too careful.

“Hey, Knox. And thank you, Laila helped pick it out,” Alvarez immediately broke into a sly grin as soon as Jeremy had entered the conversation. The Belmonte team looked relieved. 

“Nice to see you Knox,” one of the Belmonte group shook hands firmly with Jeremy, “Nice to see you to Williams. Well done, by the way, you guy’s really kicked it up a notch this year,” Jeremy said; meaning every word whilst glad to change the subject (if only to allow everyone to remain intact for the rest of the evening). 

“Yeah, just not enough to make it to finals eh? Congrats by the way,” Williams said with a polite smile, no hidden malice whatsoever behind his team’s obvious loss for a chance at the death matches. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, since when do you wear glasses?” Williams asked, a real smile breaking through the friendly façade. 

“How did you know –“ Jeremy reached for his face and that is when Jean noticed Jeremy was still wearing his glasses. He hadn’t removed them before they’d left for the court. “Shit,” Jeremy whispered. 

Jeremy hated wearing his glasses in public. As far as the Exy society knew, Jeremy Knox did not wear glasses, only the Trojans ever saw Jeremy with them on and even then they made a scant appearance.

“Hey man, it’s cool. You learn something new every day. We’ll catch up with you later,” Williams said, leading his group away to mingle with some of the other teams. 

Jeremy looked dumbfounded, “Take me back.”

“What?” Jean asked.

“Take me back, I need to go get my contacts, now,” Jeremy was beginning to take off his glasses and put them in the front pocket of his blazer when Jean lightly placed two fingers on Jeremy’s wrist. 

“Knox, it’s fine, they’re just glasses.” 

“It's not just glasses,” Jeremy said, insistent. 

Jean recalled Jeremy’s stories of his time at middle school, how a group of boys constantly bullied him up until his graduation. They’d made Jeremy feel inferior for most of his adolescence, especially targeting his anxiety problems. They’d get him riled up and make him panic over the smallest things; things Jeremy usually would never worry about. One of their favourite tricks had been to steal Jeremy’s glasses by force and let him wander around the school half blind until the pressure got to him. They’d put his glasses back in his locker so it would seem as if he’d simply misplaced them and was having a panic attack over nothing. Eventually, Jeremy had gotten contacts, both for his sake and so he could try out for the Exy team. 

Jeremy had never told any of the teachers because at his last school doing so resulted in his having to change schools. He had not wanted to be a burden to his parents, especially because they had the twins to worry about as well as a seven-year-old Millie. 

Jean looked at Jeremy now and knew Jeremy was battling with himself on the inside. Jeremy had been with him long enough to know how best to ease Jean without pushing his boundaries. Now that Jean had to return the favour, he didn’t have a clue what to do. All the same, he knew he had to at least attempt at something.

“Come with me,” Jean said quietly, nodding his head towards the exit of the stadium. Jeremy followed without complaint, probably thinking Jean was taking him to get his contacts. Jean didn’t know whether his idea would do any good, but it was still worth a try. Jeremy deserved that at least.

The air had turned startlingly cold once the sun had set, giving Jean a cold shock when he stepped out of the stadium. Jeremy went to so far as to swear and physically shiver. 

“Thank you for this Jean, I know it’s a bit of pain driving back and forth and I promise I’ll make it up to you, I just –“

Jean stopped, putting a hand up to cut off Jeremy’s rambling.

“We’re not going to fetch your contacts, Knox.”

“What? But, then why –“

“I know why your self conscious abut your glasses, Knox. I can understand why something so simple can bring back bad memories, “ memories of his own threatened to surface but Jean shook his head in order to clear it. He needed to focus on this, on Jeremy. He couldn’t let his memories get the better of him right now, “But in order for you to move on you have to stop giving what you fear power.”

“Jean –“

“Look up.”

“What?”

“Look up, Knox,” Jean tilted Jeremy’s chin and immediately Jeremy’s jaw dropped. Whether it was the lack of city of lights or clouds, Jean didn’t know, he was just thankful that the stars were actually visible tonight. Jean let Jeremy look his fill and then turned Jeremy’s chin to face him. 

“Just before I went down to the Nest, I’d always look at the sky. It would give me a reason to resurface.”

Jeremy’s dropped jaw slammed shut, his mouth forming a tight white line. Jean was conscious of his hand still gripping Jeremy’s chin but, rather than letting go, he stepped closer, “I never knew when I’d get to see the sky again. The cold you feel now is nothing compared to the cold of black concrete walls being your only home for nearly ten years. And that doesn’t even compare to the Ravens.”

Jeremy’s eyes were wide. He looked like he wanted to say something but Jean’s tight grip on his chin restricted him. Jean loosened his grip, choosing to rather wrap his hand around the back of Jeremy’s neck. 

“I am still learning to live without fear. I am still learning to take my own advice,” Jean lifted his free hand to show his wrist, indicating his tattoos, “And Knox, I know you’re braver than this.”

Jeremy’s eyes were searching Jean’s, and Jean met his gaze head on. And there they were. Deep, ice blue. You could drown in eyes like Jeremy Knox’s. 

Jean released Jeremy’s neck and stepped back.

“Just think about it Knox,” Jean said. Jean lightly clapped Jeremy’s shoulder as he walked past him back to the stadium, back to his first Christmas ball without the Ravens. 

Eventually Jeremy came back inside, glasses still intact and a somber look on his face. It melted away as soon as Laila bombarded him with news from one of the other teams. Jeremy smiled but Jean had learnt long ago, when it came to Jeremy Knox, what was real and what was fake. Jeremy’s smile resembled that of Kevin’s whenever he would have had to put on a show for the reporters, his abusers and fellow victim at his side. 

Jeremy caught Jean’s eye and gave a slight nod, indicating he was all right. The smile was barely there anymore. Jean nodded in turn, taking a sip of his punch and letting the music pound through his brain, washing away any thoughts of the Ravens.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy drops Jean off at the airport.

The winter ball signified the end of the fall season, bringing with it the winter holidays and the excitement that comes with a new year. Jeremy offered to drive Jean to the airport, seeing as it was on his way home. Jean had declined at first but after Jeremy, nicely, nagged him over the course of two days, Jean agreed. 

“You’re car is a death trap,” Jean said now, having squeezed into the passenger seat of Jeremy’s 1992 Pontiac. Jeremy didn’t know a lot about cars but he knew enough to understand that when it came to crappy cars his was by far the crappiest. He’d insisted on paying for his own car when it came around to getting his license, working late-hour night shifts at a diner that was walking-distance from his house. His parents hadn’t objected, they’d thought it would be good for character building. 

Jeremy could understand why Jean thought his car was, as he had muttered to himself, a “Poubelle roulante,” but the car itself was safe. Sure, it had the occasional temper tantrum and refused to start but a good kick to the exhaust usually did the trick. 

“So Renee’s gonna meet you at the terminal?” Jeremy asked, ignoring Jean’s statement. 

“Yes,” Jean said, giving Jeremy a quick look before turning his gaze to his window. There was not much to see in terms of scenery on the way to the airport; Jeremy figured Jean was just nervous. He was going to be spending his Christmas break with Renee Walker in North Dakota. Renee had insisted on flying to California to meet Jean and Jeremy at the airport, so that Jean had company on the way there. Jean had not declined her offer.

The last time Jeremy had seen Renee Walker was when she’d stayed the first week of the summer holidays at USC with Jean. Before then, Jeremy had only ever really seen her on the court, and even then she was hidden behind the bulky armor that every goalkeeper was prescribed to wear. When Jean had introduced Renee, Jeremy was shocked to see such a petite figure. She was pretty but in the way some dangerous animals were pretty. They usually signified a warning: the brighter their colours, the more poisonous they were. Renee Walker was nothing but sweet and generous the entirety of her stay, but something in her smile had still made Jeremy a little wary of her. Jeremy had decided then and there that he would never get on Renee Walker’s bad side.

“What time is your guy’s flight again?” Jeremy asked, anything to distract Jean. 

“Four o’clock, so we’ll have some time on our hands,” Jean replied. He’d already told Jeremy this but Jeremy figured he was too distracted to remember. 

Finding parking was a little difficult, seeing as everyone was either flying out or coming back home for the holidays but, eventually, Jeremy managed to squeeze between two rather badly parked cars. 

Jean swore under his breath as he inched himself slowly out of the car. Not only was the Pontiac tiny in comparison to Jean’s height (his head practically hit the roof) but also, due to the tight parking space, it made getting to the back seat for Jean’s bags nearly impossible. 

Jeremy tried not to smile whilst Jean, rather comically, pulled his bags out of the backseat. Jean still managed to catch him in the act, glaring at Jeremy as he made his way to the entrance whilst swinging his bag onto his shoulder. Jeremy knew it wasn’t with hate. If anything (for Jean anyway) it was almost playful. 

The two men stood waiting by the terminal exit, eyes anticipating a crop of short, white-blonde hair. Jean spotted Renee first, and immediately a change overtook him. His eyes softened, making his usual storm clouds a silvery gray, and the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly more than when they usually did. Jeremy looked at Jean and was immediately filled with happiness and protectiveness at the same time. 

Jean had waved his arm in order to catch Renee’s attention. On seeing Jean, Renee’s smile was radiant, her white her shining in the afternoon sun. Renee walked over calmly, making her way through the throng of people. 

She stopped in front of Jean. 

“Hello Jean,” she said.

“Hello Renee,” Jean said back, nearly a whisper.

Renee went up on to her toes and gave Jean a quick but sincere hug. Jean looked as if he could stay like that for an eternity. 

“Hello Jeremy,” Renee said, before proceeding to give Jeremy a hug as well. In her light but warm grip, Jeremy suddenly understood why Jean would want to stay like this forever. 

“Did you drive here?” Renee asked stepping away from Jeremy and turning her attention back to Jean.

“I did,” Jeremy answered, “It’s on my way home so I figured…” Jeremy didn’t know how to finish his sentence. There was something about seeing Renee and Jean together again that was disorientating. 

“Well, seeing as we have some time before our flight, I was hoping we could maybe get some late lunch. Is there a restaurant or diner near by?” Renee asked, not missing a beat.

“Oh, um, yeah, actually there’s one, maybe, ten minutes away?” Jeremy stuttered. He felt nervous. He couldn’t understand why, “Jean?”

“Of course,” Jean said, after a moment of consideration. 

“Alright,” Renee said, a small smile on her face.

Jean didn’t complain when he had to squeeze back into the passenger seat of the Pontiac, although by the look in his eyes, Jeremy knew Jean was probably biting his tongue.

The diner was one Jeremy was familiar with. Usually he and Laila stopped off there before heading their separate ways for the holidays, however, Laila was going home with Alvarez this year, leaving Jeremy in a booth with Jean and Renee.

The two were sharing one side with Jeremy on the other. Jeremy felt like a third wheel on a best friend’s date. Jean was showing Renee his tattoos, her hands ghosting lightly over the ink. Jeremy kept his hands in his lap, clenching and unclenching until the food arrived. 

Jeremy wasn’t one for jealously. He hated the feeling in his stomach and besides, what was there to be jealous about, really? Yes Jean was his friend but that gave Jeremy no possession over him whatsoever (Jeremy had learnt this when he was younger, what with having five younger siblings). And yet, he couldn’t help but feel something squirm in his stomach when he saw the way Jean looked at Renee, how easy he felt around her, how soft he became. 

Renee was a gentle person, she was kind and thoughtful, and she had rescued Jean from the Raven’s. Jean had every right to feel comfortable around her. 

“Jean tells me you’re the one who recommended the artist.”

“Sorry?” Jeremy looked up to find Renee looking at him, a smile still playing at her lips.

“For his tattoos,” Renee prompted. She was good at keeping a conversation on a good note; Jeremy could only imagine how handy such a skill was in terms of the Foxes.

“Oh, um, yeah he’s a cousin of mine. We were pretty close growing up, he was like the older brother I never had,” Jeremy finally dug into his burger, having noticed that both Renee and Jean were already eating. His fries were cold.

“He did a beautiful job, his line work is excellent,” Renee said, taking another bite of her salad. 

“Do you have an interest in tattoos?” Jeremy asked his interest piqued.

“I did, a long time ago. Childish rebellion you might say,” Renee responded. Jeremy could immediately tell a change in subject was needed. 

“Have you ever been to North Dakota before, Jean?”

Jean was keeping to himself now that the food had arrived (interrupting whatever conversation he and Renee and had been having). 

“No, although Renee tells me there’s not much to do.”

“There’s a reason my mom was so desperate to get me out of there,” Renee said. Jeremy could tell by that one sentence how much Renee loved her mother; with that one tender smile.

“Well, surely you guys at least have movie cinemas? Jean’s starting to like films,” Jeremy said, a smile now tugging at his own lips.

“Really?” Renee asked. She sounded generally surprised by the information. Jeremy silently pushed his little victory to the back of his mind. 

“The Trojan’s have mandatory movie nights every Friday, sometimes I join,” Jean said, matter-of-factly. He gave Jeremy a look before turning back to his steak. 

“It’s tradition,” Jeremy was about to explain his family movie nights when Jean interrupted him.

“It was first his family’s, now it is the Trojans.”

“The Trojan’s are family,” Jeremy said.

“I know,” and Jean meant it. 

Renee’s eyes glinted, her smile almost all-knowing. Jeremy turned back to his cold fries. 

They ate in comfortable silence after that, with the occasional small conversation between Renee and Jean. However, Jeremy didn’t feel the pang of jealousy so much in his stomach any more. He kept his smile to himself.

Renee managed to find a better parking spot on their return to the airport. Jean looked relieved to say the least. As Jeremy stepped out, Renee caught his arm lightly, “May I speak with you quickly?”

Jean did not seem to notice, too busy getting his bags out of the backseat of the car. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Jeremy asked. Renee had removed her hand but Jeremy could still feel her grip. Jeremy had a feeling Renee was a lot stronger than she made herself out to be. 

“I just wanted to thank you, for everything you’ve done for Jean so far.”

“Oh, um, well, I mean, you know, he’s a Trojan that’s what we do. We help each other,” Jeremy stuttered. 

“I know they do, but,” Renee chanced a glance at Jean as he was closing the door, “You’ve helped him. You. In the small amount of time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him so, well not relaxed but comfortable with someone.”

Jeremy was shocked. Did Renee not realize the effect she had on Jean? How substantial a difference her presence made? 

“I wouldn’t go so far – ” Jeremy started to say.

“You don’t see it, do you. The effect you have on him,” Renee stated quietly. It wasn’t a question. 

“I –“

“Knox, are you coming?” Jean called. He was halfway to the entrance, bag slung casually over his shoulder. 

“Come on,” Renee said, making her way towards Jean. It was as if the conversation had never happened.

Jeremy had to take a few steadying breathes to clear his head before following Renee.

Renee gave Jeremy another hug when she said goodbye, whispering, “Just think about it,” in his ear before standing off to one side. She was giving Jeremy and Jean privacy to say goodbye. 

Jean shifted his weight from one foot to the other; his bag still slung around one shoulder. He didn’t look at Jeremy when he said, “Don’t waste your holidays on your War of Stars movies.”

Jeremy laughed, “Star Wars, but, okay. I won’t.” 

Neither looked at the other. Jeremy eyed Jean’s shoes whilst he said, “Take care of yourself.”

“I will,” Jean said, however, he sounded unsure. 

Jeremy finally looked up and found Jean’s eyes staring right back at him. They were still the soft, silvery gray of when he first spotted Renee. Perhaps Renee was right, albeit a little. Jeremy set aside a mental note to message Laila later.

An almost incoherent voice announced Jean and Renee’s flight, yet neither man looked away from the other. They were locked in, neither choosing to break away first. 

“Jean, “ Renee said softly, her hand barely touching his forearm. Jean blinked and then turned to look at Renee, “It’s time to go.”

“Je sais,” Jean whispered, more to himself. 

He looked to Jeremy once more and then dumped his bag on the ground. Before Jeremy knew it, Jean Moreau was hugging him. Jeremy barely had time to wrap his arms around Jean’s broad shoulders before Jean pulled away. 

“See you soon, Knox,” Jean said, grabbing his bag and making his way to the terminal. 

Jeremy didn’t say anything as he watched Jean and Renee disappear among the crowd. 

Jeremy stood there long after their plane had taken off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poubelle sur roues - trash on wheels
> 
> Je sais - I know


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean arrives home and finds a new side to Jeremy Knox.

It didn’t take Jean too long to spot Jeremy amongst the crowd. The terminal was flooded with people arriving back home, whether they were ready for the New Year or not. 

Jeremy immediately grinned as soon as he spotted Jean, making his way slowly through the mass of people to meet Jean halfway. 

“Hey, you got your hair cut?” Jeremy said.

Jean almost reprimanded Jeremy for his pointing out the obvious, but decided to let this one slip. Renee had helped get rid of Jean’s overgrown bangs during his stay in North Dakota. She wasn’t a professional but Jean was happy with his shorter hair. He scrubbed his hand through it and looked down at Jeremy, “Yes, Renee says hello by the way.”

Jeremy’s smile was warm, it was not his usual toothy grin but all the same, Jean was still happy to see him smile.

“Wait,” Jeremy’s smile faltered. Without warning, he reached up and turned Jean’s left cheek to him. 

Jean wondered when he would notice.

“A fleur de lis? Could you be more French?” Jeremy asked, his smile immediately returning. 

Jean had been toying with the idea for months, although he’d never really allowed himself to indulge. Once he’d gotten his scars tattooed, however, he had begun to consider his three. Every morning when he woke up he had to look at three, at the reminder of what he was worth, of who he belonged to. Jean hated it, and he had told Renee as much his first week in North Dakota. Renee had not pushed but she had dropped subtle hints about her knowing an artist, giving her full support when Jean had decided to finally get his three tattooed over, “And what better way than with a royal symbol of your own?” Renee had asked, a glint in her eye and a sharp edge to her smile.

Jeremy dropped his hand a second too late, leaving a burning sensation on Jean’s chin. Jean had been hoping that feeling was just his imagination, an illusion, but that sickly sweet feeling in the pit of his stomach was stronger than ever after having Jeremy touch him for just a second. 

These next few months were going to interesting.

“Tease all you want, I like it, Knox,” Jean said, making his way to the exit.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like,” Jeremy said, having caught up with Jean. Jeremy dug his hands into his pockets and though he tried, Jean could still feel his gaze on his cheek. 

“I’m happy for you.”

Jean stopped but then immediately started walking again, nearly tripping over his own feet. He could feel his cheeks burning. 

“So, was your family happy to see you?” Jean asked, trying to change the subject.

“Well, the little one’s were. God I forgot how busy kids can be! My parents are literally super heroes, I don’t know how they do it,” Jeremy’s smile was all fondness. 

Jeremy continued to talk and Jean continued to listen whilst they were driving (Jeremy had managed to find a good parking space this time round, so they were on the road in no time). Jeremy mentioned the mischief the twins got up to on New Years with cheap fireworks and how Millie had brought over her girlfriend, much to the family’s surprise. 

“We literally had no clue, I mean – Oh, um, I forgot. Do you want to stop for lunch or just head straight to the dorms?” Jeremy asked. They were about to pass the diner they had eaten at before Jean and Renee’s flight. Jean had not eaten on the plane and was dying for a cup of tea. 

He told Jeremy as much so they turned into the diner. 

The two sat in silence whilst they waited for their drinks.

“You said you had no clue,” Jean prompted, hoping to continue the conversation (or at least let Jeremy talk).

“Huh?” Jeremy appeared distracted, his blue eyes unfocused. 

“About Millie,” Jean said, hoping to fill the silence. 

“Oh! Um, yeah, no, it was just… It was a surprise you know? A nice surprise. She’d never said anything and, I mean, not that she had to but, a little forewarning would have been nice,” Jeremy said, looking down at the tabletop. He was fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. 

Jean leaned over and placed two fingers on Jeremy’s wrist.

“Knox?” 

“I’m fine,” Jeremy said almost immediately. 

Jean did not believe him for a second but did not want to push the subject. Just then their drinks arrived, a hot chocolate for Jeremy and black tea for Jean. 

“I don’t understand how you can drink that,” Jeremy said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. Foam framed his upper lip, but Jean said nothing. He wanted to see how long it would take for Jeremy to notice. 

“I like to keep things simple,” Jean said, hiding the twitch of his lips behind his cup.

“Oh, I know,” Jeremy said, taking another sip and leaving double the amount of foam on his lip. Jean nearly burnt his tongue on his tea. 

“What?” Jeremy asked. 

“Nothing, just thinking about the twins.”

“Honestly, those two could give Simon and Renaldi a run for their money,” Jeremy started before the waitress arrived with their food.

“One Sunday Brunch,” she said, placing Jean’s plate down carefully, “And the chocolate chip pancakes for – Oh!” She stopped when she saw Jeremy’s upper lip. Jean sat back and watched the moment unfold, aiming for nonchalance in order to not give the game away.

The waitress was obviously trying to be polite, “You have um –“ She still had Jeremy’s pancakes in one hand, the other floated just above her lip. 

“Chocolate chip pancakes?” Jeremy asked, completely unaware of what the waitress was trying to indicate. 

“Yes,” the waitress put down his plate and looked at Jean. Jean said nothing, digging into his breakfast. The waitress was about to disappear when Jeremy asked, “Sorry, is there any chance I could get extra chocolate sauce if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Yes,” the waitress said abruptly, doing an about face turn towards the kitchen.

Jeremy looked very confused, turning his gaze to Jean he said, “Was it something I said?” 

“No,” Jean said, taking a bite of his toast.

“Here you are,” the waitress said, placing Jeremy’s extra chocolate sauce alongside a pile of napkins.

“Just in case you want to –“ the waitress’ hand hovered by her mouth again, and then she left. 

Jeremy looked absolutely frazzled at this point.

“What does she –“ he brushed his fingers over his mouth and when his hand came back with foam he immediately looked to Jean with a look of absolute betrayal on his face.

“No,” Jeremy said.

“Oh yes,” Jean said, taking another bite of his toast.

Jeremy nearly knocked over his chocolate sauce in his rush to wipe away the foam still framing his upper lip.

He was babbling on, scolding Jean in mock-horror for not telling him and “leaving a man hanging”. 

“Shouldn’t I be allowed to have some dignity left?” Jeremy said, pouring an excessive amount of chocolate sauce on his already drenched pancakes.

“You’re lucky you’re not diabetic,” Jean said, hoping to hide his smile behind his already empty cup of tea. 

“And you’re lucky I’m nice,” Jeremy joked, finally taking a bite of his pancakes.

“That I am,” Jean whispered to himself.

Jeremy stopped with his fork mid-way to his mouth. 

Jean looked up and met Jeremy’s keen blue eyes. They looked crystal clear in the early morning sunlight. 

Jeremy looked like a little boy caught in the act of writing on the walls in permanent ink. 

“I’m –“

“Don’t be,” Jean said, already knowing what Jeremy was going to say. 

“But –“

“Knox, I can’t adapt if I expect everyone to always apologize when they cross a line.”

Jeremy paled. Jean immediately knew he’d used the wrong words.

“You didn’t cross a line,” he almost growled. This wasn’t how Jean had wanted his first day back to go. This was what he had feared. 

“I –“

“Knox, look at me,” Jean said, waiting for Jeremy to return his gaze before continuing, “You did not cross a line, you have done everything possible to ensure you never do. You are the last person I would ever expect to hurt anyone, even me. I trust you, so please stop worrying and enjoy your so-called breakfast.”

Jeremy’s expression went blank.

Jean immediately regretted what he said, of the way he’d said it, trying to think of a way to patch up his mistake when Jeremy spoke. 

“You trust me?” It was barely a whisper.

Jean didn’t even hesitate, “Of course.”

Jeremy looked down at his pancakes as if hoping to find some source of inspiration in his puddle of chocolate sauce.

“You’re right,” he finally said, picking up his utensils again and forking nearly a quarter of his pancakes into his mouth in one go.

“I’m still just a little frazzled after these holidays, I mean, a lot’s happened. What with the new baby and the twins and Millie, I mean, you won’t believe what she told me. That she’s known all this time and that’s why she felt comfortable coming out to the family and I just –“ whilst rambling, Jeremy had continued to fork his pancakes in large amounts into his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing and taking in the next mouthful. Jean was sure Jeremy was going to choke, that he _was choking_ when he froze midsentence.

But Jeremy picked up his hot chocolate and gulped the rest it down along with the last few bites of his pancakes, not saying another word whilst he wiped away the remaining foam and chocolate sauce from around his mouth.

Jean took this as the end of the conversation and tried to finish his breakfast promptly without the risk of choking. 

They drove back in complete silence, Jeremy’s hands clenching the wheel and Jean stealing glances at Jeremy’s profile. There was a hardness behind Jeremy’s eyes that was unsettling. It wasn’t the look of fierce determination that set in during practice (that was something Jean had come to appreciate, to look forward to). This, on the other hand, was one step further. Jean had never seen a look of fury on Jeremy Knox’s face but if he had to describe it it would be how Jeremy appeared now; jaw grinding, foot testing the gas pedal, eyes hard and cold as ice. 

Jean had always wondered what Jeremy would like when he was riled up (if it were even possible). Now he was certain he never wanted to be present for such an occasion. 

Yes, these next few months were going to be interesting, to say the very least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so I kind of wanted to explore the idea of Jeremy still coming to terms with himself in a lot of ways (this will unfold in the next few chapters) and Jean helping him out with this. In the end, I really want to portray a relationship where there isn't one savior and one victim. Both of these boys have a lot of issues and internal struggles and, hopefully, I've portrayed that well enough so that these next few chapters kind of bring some closure. I'm not saying all of their problems are suddenly gonna be fixed by the end of this fic, especially in terms of Jean and his time at Evermore but, well, if I do this right then hopefully it'll portray Jean and Jeremy's relationship and how they work together to help themselves and each other through their problems and especially their pasts. 
> 
> So... stay tuned for the next chapter and if you have any questions or queries don't be afraid to ask x


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy opens up to Jean.

Jeremy threw cold water on his face. It was probably the last thing he should do when he was trying fall asleep but the heat was getting to him. It was January and yet Jeremy could feel his cheeks burning, he could _see_ they were burning. 

_Get it together._

Jeremy tore his eyes away from the mirror, stomping quietly (so as not to wake Jean) into the kitchen to warm up a cup of milk. 

Ever since Jean had gotten back from North Dakota, their roles seemed to have magically swopped. Jeremy felt angry half the time, and the other half he was either exhausted from not sleeping or just… 

_Depressed much?_

Alvarez had meant it as a joke but Jeremy had still taken it to heart. Laila had given Alvarez a look that immediately called for a change in subject. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Laila had asked later when they were alone. 

Jeremy had managed to come up with an excuse, saying it was nothing more than homesickness, but he didn’t know how long it would be before Laila figured out he was lying.

He wouldn’t go so far as to call it depression he was just… down. Ever since Millie had nearly outed him in front of the entire family, Jeremy just couldn’t think straight. 

Jean had noticed their first day back on the court. He hadn’t said anything but the look he sent Jeremy as he passed him in the change room said it all. 

_Either sort yourself out or talk about it, there is no in-between._

This wasn’t something Jeremy could magically fix, but it wasn’t something he could talk about either. He couldn’t even find the words to explain himself in his last therapy session with Noreen. 

The microwave brought Jeremy’s attention back to the present, blaring loudly. Jeremy nearly burnt his fingers on the steaming mug.

“Shit,” he mouthed, placing the mug hurriedly down on the kitchen counter with a loud _thwack_.

If that didn’t wake Jean up Jeremy didn’t know what would. 

As if on cue, Jean came into the lounge area, glaring at Jeremy. His hair was in disarray, his sleeping shirt rumpled and his briefs showing just a little too much leg. Jeremy averted his eyes.

“Alright, what is it, Knox?” Jean asked, not unkindly. He was obviously irritated but consideration seemed to have won over sleep deprivation this time round. 

“Nothing,” Jeremy said. It had become a habit since the Millie incident. 

Jean arched an eyebrow. He wasn’t buying it.

Jeremy sighed and, reluctantly, made his way to the sitting room, taking his mug of warm milk along with him. 

Jean indicated the couch so that’s where Jeremy sat. All of a sudden Jeremy was flooded with the memories of a perplexed Jean after his first movie night, of Jeremy trying to comfort him. Their roles really had been reversed. 

Jean sat down, keeping a good distance between himself and Jeremy. Whilst Jean was apparently more comfortable around Jeremy (as Renee had informed him) he still liked to keep a ring of personal space to himself when he could. Jeremy understood that and respected it. 

Silence hung between the two men like a veil. Jean only looked at him, not saying a word. He was waiting for Jeremy to speak first.

_Where to begin._

“I’m –“

Jean glared at him, immediately making Jeremy rethink his words. He always seemed to sense when Jeremy was going to say those two stupid words. _I’m sorry._ Jeremy couldn’t for the life of him understand why such simple words were used for the most serious situations. They seemed to work and yet feel insignificant at the same time. 

“I can’t sleep,” Jeremy said, looking down at the mug in his hands. 

“Why?” 

“Because, I just – I keep thinking about Millie and I just –“ He didn’t mention his feverish dreams, the one with a certain French backliner that immediately made Jeremy’s cheeks turn red with shame. How could he?

Jeremy felt two fingers on his wrist. He immediately relaxed; his shoulders dropped and cool air entered his lungs for what felt like the first time in decades. 

“Are you upset with her?” Jean asked, his voice steady and soft. He took back his hand, retreating back to his side of the couch. There was no pity in his voice whatsoever. Jeremy could not be more thankful.

“A little, though not about what you probably think,” Jeremy added quickly. He loved his sister. Mille always managed to bring Jeremy out of his shell, make him laugh the most and, occasionally, push his buttons. 

Out of all of his siblings, Millie was the one Jeremy trusted the most. Perhaps that was where he’d slipped up. Had he been too comfortable around her, was he too obvious? Was he honestly that transparent? How else could she have known?

Jean remained quiet, waiting for Jeremy to continue. 

Jeremy took a deep breath. 

He had to do this eventually, and, if he was going to be completely honest with himself, Jean was his best option.

“I felt jealous, at first, when she introduced Elena to us. Her girlfriend,” Jeremy explained, “She’s amazing, by the way. They compliment each other perfectly. I was almost as jealous as when I saw you and Re –“ Jeremy immediately shut his mouth, but he wasn’t quick enough. The words were out there and there was no taking them back. 

Jean didn’t say anything. His eyes glinted with _something_ , calculating, but otherwise he gave nothing away. Jeremy envied Jean’s self control but then took that thought back immediately. Considering where Jean had spent most of his life, self-control was probably a rudimentary skill. 

Jeremy waited another beat before continuing. “And, um, well obviously everyone was curious about them, how they got together, where they met, when Millie knew the she liked girls.”

_Just say it. What’s there to hide, honestly?_

“And, she sort of gave me this look, as if she knew something,” Jeremy kept glancing between the mug in his hands and Jean’s face. Jean remained collected, not giving anything away. Somehow that didn’t make things any easier.

“To cut to the chase, she nearly outed me to my entire family,” the words ran one after the other, tumbling out of Jeremy’s mouth at full speed. 

Jean considered Jeremy for a moment. At least that hadn’t changed. 

“By outed, you mean –”

“That I’m bi. Or at least, I think I am…” 

Silence swung out of nowhere, hanging heavily between the two men. 

Jeremy felt as if he’d been enveloped in a thundercloud. 

Jean didn’t give anything away. 

Jeremy took his chance and really looked at Jean for the first time since he’d gotten back, since New Years, since the diner conversation, since he _came out_. 

Moonlight seeped through the half-drawn curtains, framing Jean perfectly. Every lock of hair that was out of place, every beauty mark, every wrinkle, every scar was perfectly illuminated by the moon’s bright, white light.

Jeremy knew Jean was handsome, everyone did. Even Laila said she could see the appeal. But now, right now, in this moment, Jeremy felt what the poets did; what artists felt like when they found their muse. He wanted to trace every line of Jean, from his long lashes fanning out on his cheeks to his strong jaw, down his broad shoulders and even further down to his tapering waist line... 

Jeremy immediately shot his eyes right back up, back to Jean’s face, back to Jean’s eyes. 

_Your eyes… It’s how I fall asleep, I picture them._

Jeremy could imagine a lifetime staring into those sea-gray eyes, Jean’s eyes. He was fascinated by them, how they changed colour, how they softened around the edges when Jean let his guard down. How they didn’t give anything away. 

Jeremy realized he was staring.

Jean was staring back.

“Well?” Jeremy finally asked, anything to break the silence, to tear through the thundercloud he just couldn’t seem to escape.

“Well, what?” Jean asked, blasé. 

“I don’t know, I mean… isn’t this the part where you're stunned by disbelief and try to make sense of this or something?”

Jean waited for a moment, unfazed.

“You watch too many movies, Knox,” Jean said, before getting up and making his way to the kitchen.

Jeremy blinked once, twice. Then again, just to be sure.

“So you’re okay with this?”

“Should I not be?” Jean asked, setting the kettle to boil and preparing a cup of tea for himself. 

“I don’t know. I’ve – I’ve never done this before,” Jeremy whispered, feeling unsure of himself, more embarrassed than anything. What was he expecting? Dramatic music playing in the background whilst Jean embraced him, telling him it was okay?

That reminded Jeremy of the airport, but he pushed that aside for now. He’d already replayed that moment over a million times in his head, now was not the time. 

“That much is obvious,” Jean said, putting the milk back in the fridge before making his way to the sitting room. He sat down alongside Jeremy once again. 

Jeremy felt like screaming. 

“Why are you so calm about this?”

“Why are you so set on the idea that I shouldn’t be?” Jean retorted, taking a sip of his tea.

Jean appeared so unruffled, so unaffected by this; broody and unconcerned and indifferent as always.

Jeremy ripped the mug out from Jean’s hands and slammed it on the coffee table along with his own. 

“Because, this is something I’ve been battling with for years, maybe my whole life! I don’t even know when I started thinking that I could – that I do –“ Jeremy was yelling now. He hated this; he hated himself when he got like this. “You’ve got it easy, Jean. You know who you like, who you don’t. I, on the other hand, am constantly questioning myself. Some days I think I’m just being a coward, that I should accept that I’m gay, then the next day I think, no, but I’m straight. I don’t know what to feel half the time, if what I feel is even natural! It’s not like I’ve been with anyone, so I don’t even know what to – I just – God!” Jeremy grabbed the first thing his hands could find and threw it, aiming for the window. Thankfully, the pillow missed by a couple inches but that only made Jeremy angrier. 

He had never felt like this, he had never been angry before. Frustrated? Yes. Exhausted? Absolutely. Exasperated? Even more so. But never _angry_. Jeremy had never had this feeling of fire and rage boiling in his stomach, threatening to explode, to turn him inside out and bare himself completely to the world. To Jean.

Jean sat there, waiting for Jeremy to catch his breath. It took a minute or two, but Jeremy finally managed to bring his temper down, albeit a little. 

“Sorry,” Jeremy mumbled, not willing to look Jean in the eye.

“You’re wrong,” Jean said quietly.

Jeremy could feel his temper beginning to boil again.

“About?”

“Me. You said I know who I like, who I don’t. You’re only half right.”

Jeremy looked up at this, catching Jean’s eye. Jean’s guard was down, his eyes pools of silver that glowed in the moonlight.

“Half?” Jeremy practically whispered.

“I know what I don’t like. I know what it means to be forced to do something you don’t want to for another’s pleasure,” Jean’s tone stayed on the same, calm note, but his eyes said something else entirely. Black storm clouds were slowly being poured into the pools of silver.

Jeremy wanted to stop him there, to apologize immediately for not thinking, but Jean raised his hand, stopping Jeremy from even considering it. 

“I’ve never been a relationship where both feel the same, where consent is given, where the word “love” comes easily,” immediately Jeremy pictured Laila and Alvarez, Millie and Elena, his mom and dad. He tried not to picture what happened in the dark at Evermore. 

“What I do know, from my very limited experience, is that once you find someone, once you’re in a relationship like that, it shouldn’t matter who they are so long as you’re both willing to give everything you have.”

The storm clouds were gone, the silver pools restored, but Jeremy could tell Jean was trying very hard to keep the storm at bay. 

“So…” Jeremy started, not really knowing what he wanted to say.

“So I don’t know what I like, who I like,” Jean said matter-of-factly. He picked up his mug of tea, taking another sip. 

“I’m so stupid,” Jeremy said.

“Sometimes, yes,” Jean said, hiding a small smile he thinks Jeremy can’t see. But he does. He always notices the little things.

“No, I mean, about you. About this, about all of this,” Jeremy reached for his own mug now. It left a perfect, white ring on the table. It looked as though the moon had been blown right through the middle.

“I just… I’ve been muddled up inside for so long, I didn’t even know until recently. You’d think you’d just know about stuff like this, like how you know your favourite colour’s green or that you hate bitter coffee.”

“Blue,” Jean said.

“Sorry?” 

“My favourite colour, it’s blue.” 

“I didn’t know that.”

“Now you do.”

They finished their drinks in silence. Jean took the mug out of Jeremy’s hand gently, taking it with him to the kitchen. Jeremy sat on the couch, feeling numb and not moving an inch. 

_His favourite colour is blue._

He didn’t even notice Jean had returned until he felt two fingers lightly touch his wrist. 

“I’m not saying you have to suddenly understand everything about yourself right now, Knox,” Jean said quietly, “But, at least understand that you’re not the only one who is confused about yourself. Trust me.” The last part was barely audible. Jeremy was sure it was Jean talking to himself rather than Jeremy. 

“Thank you,” because Jeremy didn’t know what else to say. Two more stupid words that felt both right and insubstantial at the same time. 

Jean only nodded before getting up and heading back to the bedroom.

“If we’re lucky, we might catch another two hours of sleep before we need to get up.”

Jeremy groaned internally. Out of all the nights to have a late-night talking session, he had to choose the night before weightraining.

Jeremy got up, glancing at the window one last time. He retrieved the discarded pillow, placing it back on the couch before making his way back to bed. 

Hopefully, his thoughts would leave him alone now that they were finally out in the open (and hopefully his dreams would behave).

 _His favourite colour is blue_ was the last thing Jeremy remembered thinking before exhaustion got the better of him, pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean takes Jeremy to Destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got way too long so I've broken it into two pieces. I've already got the second piece written and I was so determined to wait till next week to publish it but... this isn't really something I can leave hanging in the middle of nowhere...
> 
> So, enjoy these next two chapters!

Jeremy had assured Jean that he was doing better, but Jeremy's performance on the court said otherwise. Court sessions were tense and after hours sessions were even more so. Whenever Jeremy had to face Jean, whether it was to get the ball, to score or to so much as practice checking, Jeremy flaked out at the last minute. He couldn’t so much as look at Jean without grimacing. 

By their first game of the spring season, Jeremy was a barely-held-together mess. They managed to just scrape through by one point but Jean knew the Trojan's wouldn't be so lucky their next game, not if Jeremy continued to perform the way he did. 

Jean waited outside of the change rooms for Jeremy, guessing correctly that he would be the last to leave. 

Jeremy started on seeing Jean.

"What -"

"Come on," Jean gave no explanation, just started on his way to his car, knowing Jeremy would follow.

When they passed the turn off for USC, Jeremy continually tried to ask where they were headed. Jean gave no answer, increasing the volume of the radio every time Jeremy asked a question until he got the hint.

When Jean took a sharp left into an empty field Jeremy took a deep breath.

"Ah," was all Jeremy said before he got out and set himself up on the hood of Jean's car.

Jean was silently thankful for the clear sky, making way for an abundance of stars. 

Jean chanced a glance at Jeremy. 

Jeremy looked as if he was not breathing.

"Jeremy?"

Jeremy sighed, directing his gaze away from the stars and to his feet.

Jeremy hadn't looked at Jean, not properly, since his... What could he call it? Confession? Admission? Both made Jeremy sound guilty, which was the last thing he should feel.

Was that it? Did he feel guilty? Ashamed? Did he regret telling Jean? 

Jean knew that his response wasn’t what Jeremy had been looking for, wasn’t exactly, perhaps, what he needed. But it was the best Jean could offer. 

He had no right to judge, he barely understood his own feelings (or lack thereof) towards others himself.

Right now, though, as much as he wanted to know the answers, Jean couldn't voice the questions running through his mind at heart-stopping speed.

Instead, he started drawing constellations, whispering their names quietly. 

Jeremy didn't say anything. He didn't trace the stars' complicated patterns with Jean, he only sat and listened, his eyes the only giveaway. They followed Jean's hand constantly, reflecting the stars and all of their secrets in electric-blue waters. 

***

Jeremy couldn’t gather up the courage to speak. He felt the words build up in his throat but they always got stuck, got tangled and sucked back into the bottomless pit that was his stomach. 

Jean was tracing the stars, murmuring their names under his breath. 

His eyelashes looked extra long tonight, his hair perfectly dishevelled from his shower. It was still curling at the tips.

Jeremy had to resist the urge to run his fingers through it.

Instead, he clamped his hands together, safely in his lap. Kept his gaze to his shoes, stealing glances at Jean when he thought it was safe. 

Did he know? 

Jeremy had been so obvious during practice; he had kicked himself mentally every time he dodged Jean. But he couldn’t help it. Jeremy knew what would happen if he got too close. He had to make sure not to touch Jean, not to look at him too long. Every time he did Jeremy found himself noticing something new; how Jean’s right middle finger was a little crooked from how he holds his pencils, how Jean’s left ear had a beauty mark on the edge of the lobe, how his eyes actually had little flecks of blue in them, how he gets dimples in his cheeks and crinkles by his eyes when he smiles for real, how he had sharp, prominent cheekbones and how well-defined his back was from being defense.

Jeremy could go on and on until he listed enough facts to give the number of stars a run for their money. He allowed himself to indulge even though he shouldn’t. 

Does he care?

How would Jean react if he knew how Jeremy felt, how he had been feeling for the last few months? 

Jeremy would never permit himself to acknowledge how he felt. That would mean admitting that it was true. That what he felt for Jean Moreau was more than friendship.

It didn’t just happen overnight, but that’s how it felt. It just sort of clicked, and everything else before just made sense. Jeremy wished he’d never figured it out. Knowing nothing makes everything easier.

He would never want to risk what he’d built with Jean over these last few months. Sure Jean was still prickly, and yes he lost his temper with the team sometimes but he didn’t seem to see himself and the team as separate entities anymore. He and Laila got on amazingly, he was willing to spend time with the team outside of practice more and more often and he was even able to hold up a conversation with Alvarez that lasted longer than five minutes.

Jean was settling into USC, just in time for his final year, for graduation. He could continue on to a pro-Exy team, and then probably court. No, not probably, definitely. 

Jean didn’t need Jeremy to mess that up for him. He didn’t need Jeremy’s messed up feelings tearing down all of the hard work he’d done these last few months to slowly put himself back together. After Riko, after the Ravens, after Evermore. 

“Knox?”

Jeremy turned his head, not realising what he was doing until it was too late. 

He hadn’t looked Jean in the eyes since their talk. Since Jeremy admitted that he was bi, or that he thought he was. 

Jeremy didn’t know what to think anymore. 

“Knox?” Jean said again, his eyes glinting. 

The words wouldn’t come out; they were stuck, stuck, stuck. Stuck like taffy, like superglue. 

Jeremy felt like he was choking. 

“Talk to me,” Jean said, quietly. 

_You have no idea the things I want to say_

Jeremy tried to avert his eyes again. He wanted to bury his head in the sand, anything to not get hypnotised by Jean’s eyes.

Jean wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed Jeremy’s chin and forced Jeremy to look him. Jeremy still couldn’t meet his eyes, focusing rather on Jean’s chin.

It hurt, having Jean touch him. Both because he was gripping a little too tightly and because of the heat that spread from Jeremy’s stomach all over, all because Jean decided to lay a hand on him. It reminded Jeremy all too harshly of what he couldn’t have. 

Jean seemed to notice he was making Jeremy uncomfortable and moved his hand, choosing to cup Jeremy’s cheek rather. 

_You have no idea what you’re doing to me._

Jeremy wanted to scream. 

Instead, he kept staring at Jean’s chin, his jaw, his _mouth_ , trying to empty his mind of all thoughts of 

_Him. He’s touching me. He’s cupping my cheek. I’m blushing, I can’t breathe, I can’t see anything but him, him, him._

_Moon-grey eyes and silvery stars._

_If he’d just lean a little closer I could…_

Jeremy wrenched his chin back, nearly falling off the edge of the hood of the car.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice rough from not being used. Husky with desire.

 _Stop it_ he chastised himself. 

Jeremy suddenly felt as if he understood that Shakespeare quote.

_These violent delights have violent ends._

If he didn’t put an end to this now he was either going to end up hurting himself, or worse, hurting Jean. 

***

“Don’t.”

Jean pulled his hand back immediately. The last thing he wanted to do was to make Jeremy uncomfortable. He knew what that felt like, what it meant to have no privacy, no safety, no peace of mind whatsoever. He’d never wish to inflict that onto someone else. Especially Jeremy. 

He didn’t deserve that.

Jeremy deserved someone nice, someone as open and kind-hearted and courageous as he was himself. Someone who could support him, be there for him instead of not knowing what to do or say every time Jeremy goes quiet. 

Not someone who constantly needed to remind himself where he is or who he’s with or that Riko’s dead and gone and lost. 

Out of all the candidates Jeremy could be stuck with for his final year at USC, he’d chosen Jean. 

At the time Jean had thought Kevin or Renee had insisted on their being roommates, in order for Jeremy to keep an eye on him. Now Jean didn’t know. 

Jeremy was unwilling to look him in the eyes now. Sometimes Jeremy snuck glances when he thought Jean wouldn’t notice. Sometimes he stared.

Even though he tried to hide it, Jean always knew when Jeremy looked at him for too long. 

At Evermore, if it were anyone else, Jean would immediately feel uncomfortable, unsafe, like he needed to escape, to see the stars, to see anything other than black walls and black eyes and black, vicious smiles. But with Jeremy, he could immediately feel his shoulders relax; that his body lost its pent-up tension. He felt a comfort not even Renee provided.

He wanted Jeremy to look at him. 

Jean didn’t know how that made him feel. 

“Désolé,” he whispers now, hoping to bring some comfort to Jeremy. He knew Jeremy couldn’t really understand French all that well, so Jean knew it was safe to let a few words slip every now and then.

He could say anything he wanted to right now, in French, and Jeremy wouldn’t have a clue. 

Jean was almost too tempted to list everything he knew about Jeremy Knox, everything he admired.

How Jeremy had such an iron will, how he never gave up on anyone. Ever. How Jeremy knew how to ease the tension in the room with a smile, and how he knew to include everyone so they didn’t feel left out.

His smile, his real smile. The small one. The one for private moments when they were alone in the dorm or on the court or out here at Destiny, the one that made Jean want to smile right back. Or how he hates his freckles even though they look like the stars themselves. Or how delicate his hands were, and how annoyingly messy and stubborn his hair could be. How it looked bronze in the sunlight. How he could have been a dancer, with his lithe, small body. How he had a beauty mark in the exact same spot as Jean’s tattoo. 

Jean wanted to kiss it. 

“Ne sois pas ridicule,” Jean murmured to himself. He needed to focus.

“I’m not being ridiculous,” Jeremy mumbled. He sounded like a child being scolded.

Jean was taken aback.

“You don’t speak French,” it was a statement, a fact. Or at least Jean had thought it was.

“I know enough,” Jeremy said, his lip twitching. He was holding back a smile. 

“Don’t do that,” Jean said.

“Don’t do what?”

“Not smile.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

_Not smile? Does he like my smile?_

Jeremy couldn’t help wonder that now as he slowly looked up at Jean. He was scared that Jean would be able to read everything, _everything_ , in his eyes and that would be that. Game over. Sorry bud, but you lost. Better luck next time.

Jeremy supposed he couldn’t go on ignoring Jean forever. And if he could read what Jeremy was feeling right now, maybe that was for the best too. 

Jeremy met Jean’s gaze. 

He immediately regretted it. 

***

Jean felt his mouth part slightly.

Jeremy’s eyes, they looked so… defeated. But at the same time so full of light.

They put all the stars to shame. 

Jean felt the corners of his mouth twitch. His lips buzzed and his hands itched. 

He wanted to keep his eyes locked with Jeremy’s but they kept glancing at that damned beauty mark on his cheek. 

Jean was craving that warmth he felt; the first time Jeremy had touched him. The feeling he got every time they so much as grazed fingertips. 

“Jean?” Jeremy croaked. 

His voice. It was so rough and low and full of… 

Desire.

Jean felt his eyebrows scrunch together. It was a bad habit. Whenever he needed to think his eyebrows would knit and his nose would scrunch up.

Oh. _Oh._

Was that it? 

Jeremy Knox, was that what you’ve been hiding?

***

Jean had scrunched up his eyebrows and nose. He looked disgusted. 

Jeremy felt his stomach bottom out, his heart falling along with it. Down, down, down, lost for good.

He tried to get off the hood of the car. The sooner they got back to USC, the sooner he could forget this. All of this. Maybe he could ask coach Rhemann if he could move rooms, Jean would probably feel more comfortable with a new roommate. Maybe, if he was lucky, Jean could have their room for himself. Then he wouldn’t need to worry about anyone. 

Jeremy’s pulse fluttered weakly in his throat. 

He felt sick.

But, before he made it off the hood of the car, Jean grabbed Jeremy’s arm, cupping his cheek with his other hand. Jean stared at him as if it were the first time they were really seeing one another. 

Jean’s eyes searched Jeremy’s face, looking everywhere. He kept changing his focus point, settling on his cheekbone, his forehead, his eyes. His mouth. 

“Je peux?” Jean asked. His voice deep and husky, like their first night here at Destiny. Jeremy had felt pulled to Jean in that moment when he taught Jean his first constellation. He didn’t even know then what he wanted, just that he needed to be close to Jean, to not let the heat escape. Their heat, that undeniable scorching want for _something_. For Jean. 

He asked again. 

“Je peux?” it was barely a whisper.

It took Jeremy a minute to translate what he was asking.

_May I?_

May he what? Smack him, push him off the hood himself? Leave Jeremy here and make him walk back to USC in the dark?

But no. No, Jean was rubbing his thumb lightly over Jeremy’s cheek, the one with the beauty mark. His eyes were dilated, huge black rings with tiny silver hoops. He was looking at Jeremy now. He was completely open. 

Jeremy had seen that look far too often in the mirror, every other night when he woke up from his dreams. From his fantasies.

Want.

_What do you want Jean?_

Jeremy didn’t ask, instead, he nodded, the word “Yes” barely slipping out before Jean was leaning in. 

He’s leaning in. _He’s leaning in._

***

Jean didn’t know what he was doing. He was cupping Jeremy’s face with one hand, the other gripping his arm. His breathing was deep and his stomach felt like a furnace. He swore he could see smoke every time he breathed out. 

All Jean knew was that it felt right. This, right here, felt more right than anything he’d ever experienced. 

He leaned in. 

***

Jean’s lips were feather soft on Jeremy’s. A barely-there peck.

He was being so soft. 

_Because he’s breakable. We both are._

He was there, all of a sudden, and then the next, he was gone.

Jean pulled back slightly, his hand still cupping Jeremy’s cheek. 

Their noses bumped.

Jeremy couldn’t help it. He let himself smile for the first time in weeks, his real smile. The small one. 

Jean looked him up and down and then slowly leaned back in but stopped just short of Jeremy’s mouth. He was waiting to see if Jeremy wanted to. 

Jeremy smiled again then closed the gap, brushing their lips once again, softly. 

Jeremy had never done this before. With anyone. He’d been too afraid that if he did he’d realise he didn’t like it after all, that he was actually straight or that he was gay or maybe even neither. That he was just confused. 

But Jean was cupping his cheek, sliding his hand slowly to Jeremy’s hairline at the nape of his neck, letting his fingers run through Jeremy’s hair. His other hand was slowly encircling his waist, closing the distance between them even more. He was parting their lips and Jeremy could feel the breath being sucked right out of him. 

Everything was being vacuumed away until it was just them, just the two of them and the stars. 

Jeremy could taste the stars. He could taste the stardust and it was absolutely intoxicating.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just general fluff, honestly.

Jeremy woke to the smell of coffee.

Late morning light scratched at his eyes until they finally opened, honing in on a cup of coffee on his bedside table.

Once up on one elbow, Jeremy took a tentative sip. It was still warm.

Jeremy glanced at Jean's bed. It was empty, neatly made.

Slowly, putting on his glasses as well as struggling with a sweater he'd found on the floor, Jeremy got up and made his way to the living room, the cup of coffee in hand.

He took another sip. It was sweet, almost too sweet.

Jeremy was trying not to think of how many teaspoons of sugar there was in his cup when he bumped into the kitchen counter.

"Shit," he mumbled, spilling coffee on the floor.

"Good morning to you too."

 

*

 

Jean had been up for over an hour. He was amazed he got any sleep at all.

He just kept picturing it, all of it. The stars, his car, him touching Jeremy's cheek, Jeremy's smile, Jeremy's mouth. Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy.

He took another sip of his black tea, letting the bitter taste hit his senses.

He'd tried not to, to picture it all. He kept thinking maybe it was just a dream. Perhaps a figment of his imagination. But here was Jeremy, his glasses askew, and the cup of extra sweet coffee Jean had made him in hand, staring at Jean with undeniable nervousness.

Jeremy's cheeks were beet red.

_So, definitely not a dream._

Jean kept his eyes locked with Jeremy's. He wasn't going to back down; he wasn't going to be the first to look away.

Of course, that lead to however many minutes of silent staring, neither man choosing to look away, but neither willing to be the first to say anything either.

Eventually, Jean's patience waned, his interest getting the better of him.

"Have a seat."

He didn't look away. Neither did Jeremy as he made his way to the couch, sitting down cautiously as if it might break under their combined weight.

Jeremy had a death grip on his coffee mug; his knuckles were white as ice.

Jean immediately felt a pang.

He probably shouldn't have done what he did, not after all Jeremy was still trying figure out. And yet he had. He'd taken that step and he'd been the one to ask and –

He'd kissed Jeremy.

And Jeremy had kissed back.

Jean didn't have any good experiences when it came to that sort of thing, being intimate with someone. Wanting to bring them pleasure and give them _something_.

He knew what it meant to have that taken from him, multiple times by multiple men.

It was one of the reoccurring dreams, big hands pinning him down while Riko sat in the shadows, watching, cackling, a knife dancing along his fingers.

It immediately sent shivers down Jean's spine. But then the thought of last night resurfaced and with it the tension in Jean’s shoulders slowly melted away.

Jean had chosen. He’d chosen to lean in, to brush his lips softly with Jeremy’s. He’d chosen to let Jeremy make the next move and was rewarded with another kiss, just as soft and even tenderer than the first. He’d chosen to hold Jeremy as close to him as possible, crushing their bodies together and letting their heat spill out into the night.

He’d chosen to kiss Jeremy for what felt like an eternity until Jeremy had pulled away –albeit reluctantly – and had said, his voice cracking, that perhaps they should get out of the cold.

Jean had chosen to kiss him again just before they got ready for bed, to cup Jeremy’s cheek and say nothing else until this moment.

He’d never been allowed to choose for himself.

He liked the way that it felt, the power it gave him but also, with Jeremy, how it made him want to be gentle of all things.

Jean was looking at Jeremy now, his head bowed, locks of hair sticking up in all directions. He’d nearly finished the mug of coffee.

Jean was having second thoughts on the amount of sugar he’d put in it.

He took the cup out of Jeremy’s hand, being careful not to let their fingers graze.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jeremy. He’d learnt to, no matter how wary he’d been in the beginning. Jean didn’t trust himself.

“Knox,” Jean said, hoping the name would give some sense of familiarity, of comfort.

Jeremy peeked up at Jean cautiously from behind his fringe.

“Yeah?”

Jean had spent his whole morning thinking of what to say, how to keep himself composed so as not to make this moment any more awkward then he knew it already would be.

Instead, he said, “Is that my sweater?”

Jeremy looked down, inspecting the purple knit sweater he was wearing. The sleeves were bunched up to his elbows, obviously far too long for Jeremy’s small size.

If Jean had thought Jeremy’s cheeks were red before he was wrong. They were now officially, and almost impossibly, two shades darker.

“I’m sorry I – I just reached for the first thing on the floor. I shouldn’t have – I’m sorry I –” Jeremy was in the process of taking the sweater off, to give it back to Jean.

Jean caught his hands, keeping them from lifting the hem.

“It’s fine, Knox,” Jean couldn’t help the little not of affection in his voice. He was amused. “Besides, you bought it, technically it’s yours.”

Jean tried not to think of skin touching skin, of the heat slowly creeping up his arms and settling in his stomach, rather choosing to focus on Jeremy’s eyes.

He was wearing his glasses. After the Christmas ball, Jeremy had started wearing them more often amongst the Trojans and sometimes even in public when he was too lazy to put in his contacts.

Jean had been surprised when he first saw Jeremy with them on. He had not liked them; they were old-fashioned, square cut with a thin metal frame. But now, now Jeremy almost looked more like, well, _Jeremy_ with them on.

The Jeremy who watched those Star Wars movies whenever he got the chance, always laughing at the same jokes that Jean didn’t even get the first time. The Jeremy who baked in the middle of the night and didn’t care about the consequences. The Jeremy who leant Jean books and could talk about them for hours afterwards.

The Jeremy who turned on the light in the middle of the night and knew when not to ask any questions.

Jeremy's glasses were as much a part of him as his blue eyes or ever-messy mousy hair. As the small smile that now danced across his face or the beauty mark on his left cheekbone.

Jean still desperately wanted to kiss that spot.

So he did.

It was just a light touch of his lips to Jeremy’s cheek but it felt all the more intimate because it was. It was soft and careful.

Jean could hear Jeremy’s small intake of breath, could feel his cheeks burning where his skin brushed against Jean’s.

They were still holding hands.

Slowly, so slowly, Jean retracted. He didn’t want Jeremy to feel pressured. That he had to give Jean anything.

He’d already done so much.

But then Jean felt fingers brush through the hair at the nape of his neck. Feather-light, barely-there touches.

“Is this okay?” Jeremy sounded so sincere. Jean felt his heartbeat race up his throat as if a hummingbird were stuck in his ribcage, trying to get out.

“Yes,” he whispered.

They sat there in silence, their hands slowly mapping out each other’s contours.

Jean cupped Jeremy’s cheek, then slowly danced his fingers along Jeremy’s neck to his shoulder, down over the rough texture of his sweater until he met Jeremy’s waist, encircling Jeremy slowly, not wanting to rush the moment. Giving Jeremy time to back out if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

Rather, Jeremy moved his fingers from Jean’s neck down his spine, feeling each individual vertebrae until he met the small of Jean’s back. There was a tiny sliver of skin where Jean’s shirt had ridden up. Jeremy looked at Jean, asking with his eyes, _Is it okay if I? –_ Jean nodded, slowly, not wanting to shatter the moment with any sudden movements.

This was so different from any of it. From all of Evermore and Jean’s training and the long sleepless nights that met him after practice with the Ravens. With Riko at his ear.

This was how he felt when he first laid eyes on the stars from the hood of his car in the middle of nowhere, with Jeremy teaching him constellations.

He never wanted to let this feeling go.

Gently, Jeremy let his fingers brush the bare skin of the small of Jean’s back.

He shivered.

Neither of them said anything.

They didn’t need to.

Jean felt himself gravitating towards Jeremy. Jeremy, in turn, was moving to meet him halfway, lips parted slightly, eyes already closed.

They’d just brushed their mouths together when three harsh knocks came from the door.

“Jer? Jer! Are you awake?” Laila asked, relentlessly knocking and trying to open the door. Thankfully, it was still locked from last night.

Jeremy broke away first, choosing to search Jean’s eyes rather than open the door for Laila.

“You should probably get that,” Jean said, not knowing what else to do.

Jeremy nodded and then got up. Jean immediately felt the cold settle in where Jeremy had been seated just a moment before.

Once the door was open, Laila stormed in, blonde hair swinging behind her and a takeaway box in hand.

“Finally! Thought I’d have to get Alvarez to pick the lock or something.” She made her way to the kitchen, smiling because Laila could never stay mad. It wasn't the Laila way.

“Sorry, overslept,” Jeremy mumbled, glancing quickly at Jean. Jean met his gaze but then immediately turned it to Laila who said, “Which explains why you missed breakfast?”

Jeremy’s face fell.

He and Laila had breakfast every Saturday morning. No exceptions whatsoever. Sometimes Jean had tagged along but otherwise, it was something just between the two of them. It was a ritual, a part of their routine.

“Laila, I’m so sorry I –“

Laila waved a hand, dismissing Jeremy's apology. “Jer, it’s fine. We all need a few extra hours of sleep every once in a while.” Jean knew she was hinting at Jeremy’s behaviour over the last two weeks but he (as well as Jeremy it seemed) was thankful she didn’t call Jeremy out on it.

“So, I got you your usual, extra chocolate sauce and all,” she opened the takeaway box and slid it over to Jeremy, a small smile still on her face.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t know if you’d want anything –” she started, turning to Jean.

It was Jean’s turn to stop her mid-apology. “Don't worry about it. I understand.” And he meant it.

Laila appeared to read it in his eyes. She gave him a nod and that knowing smile reserved just for Jean before turning her attention back to Jeremy.

The two instantly got to talking, catching up on their lost time from that morning.

Jean got up and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for the day, giving the two of them some privacy. A small smile tugged at his lips.

By the time Jean was done and dressed for the day, Laila was gone and Jeremy was halfway through his pancakes.

He stopped short when Jean entered the kitchen. Having grabbed their mugs of discarded coffee and tea from the living room, Jean placed them in the sink for later then moved on to the fridge to see what he had to work with to make a decent breakfast.

“Um…” Jeremy pushed his half-eaten pancakes away from him and turned to face Jean. He leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms and ankles crossed. Jeremy's apprehension was practically oozing onto the floor.

“Jean – I, uh –“

Jean closed the fridge door, having found nothing satisfactory to eat, and turned to face Jeremy, “Are you alright?”

Jeremy was caught off guard.

“Sorry?”

“Are you alright? Are you feeling… better after last night?”

Jeremy looked genuinely shocked. Jean was surprised himself, with his consideration. It was the reason he’d taken Jeremy to see the stars, to figure out what was troubling him. To help him somehow, like he’d helped Jean, albeit in a small way. But Jean had never had to comfort someone like this, to try to understand anyone on a deeper level than what their strengths or weaknesses were on the court.

This was new territory, and Jeremy could sense that.

“I, um… a little, actually, yes. Yes, I’m feeling a bit better,” Jeremy said, meeting Jean’s eye across the kitchen. Jean watched as the tension in Jeremy's shoulders melted.

Jean nodded and then turned to exit the kitchen, getting his jacket and his keys.

“Where you headed?” Jeremy asked, back to his normal self. He seemed much more relaxed now, coming to the kitchen doorway and watching as Jean put on his jacket.

“We need groceries. Unlike you, I can’t survive on pure sugar,” Jean said. He tried to sound gruff, to put up his shield like he usually did. But he couldn’t, or, rather, he didn’t want to.

This was Jeremy.

Instead, he let the remark slip, allowing it to be a tease. He could feel his lips tingling, the corners of his mouth tipping upwards.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit then,” Jeremy said, a crooked grin cutting across from one ear to the other.

“Hm,” Jean said, opening the door.

He was about to step through the doorway when Jeremy caught at his arm.

Jean stopped and turned into Jeremy who kissed his cheek.

“It doesn’t hurt to have a little sugar sometimes,” he said against Jean’s cheek before pulling away and smirking at Jean.

Jean only shook his head, closing the door behind him and letting his mouth curl up into a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say sorry for the very late update and I hope this chapter is okay. For some reason, I really struggled to buckle down and write it. I guess there was a lot of ways I could have taken this but I kinda wanted to keep it light since I have a few more pressing chapters planned... Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed and, again, sorry for the late update x


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean gets anxious with the Trojan's up-and-coming game with the Ravens, Jeremy tries his best to help out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the late update... again. School has a choke-hold grip on me and time has literally vanished from under my feet. 
> 
> Just a few notes on this chapter: it's long. As in LONG. And also, just a few trigger warnings, if any of you are uncomfortable with the mentions of rape or torture then just skip to the end, I honestly don't mind xx
> 
> So, enjoy the chapter and thank you for being patient with me!

The next few weeks were a bit of a blur for Jeremy. 

They were a mix of practices and tense late night court sessions with Jean, Saturday breakfasts with Laila and pushing through school work. Slowly opening up to Noreen at his next therapy session about his sexuality. Trying not to think what was running through Jean’s head. 

They had not kissed since the morning Jeremy had missed out on his breakfast date with Laila. 

Jeremy was beginning to worry, letting his thoughts get the better of him. Maybe Jean had kissed him only to make him feel better, to help him out, to get him past his “confused stage” so he could get back on the court. 

Jeremy was scared Jean regretted kissing him. 

He kept thinking about how he’d kissed Jean on the cheek before he went out to buy groceries. How stupid he immediately felt afterwards that he hadn’t even stopped to think that maybe Jean didn’t want that. That Jean didn’t want _him_.

Jean had never actually said it, that he wanted to. He’d kissed Jeremy, which was… to be frank, it was something Jeremy had never expected. Jeremy had never really kissed anyone before. Sure there were the awkward pecks that came with having “girlfriends” in the sixth grade but that was far as Jeremy’s experience went. 

So when Jean had brushed his lips against his, had asked so quietly “Je peux?” _May I?_ , Jeremy thought his head would explode. 

Jean had kissed Jeremy and yet all Jeremy could think about was _Did he kiss me because he wanted to or because he thought it would fix me?_

Jeremy finally got his answers the week the Trojans were due to play the Ravens in the final game of the championship. 

The Trojans had managed to make their way through the death matches without a hitch, with Jeremy’s head more or less back in the game and the team dead set on winning this year the Trojans were a force to be reckoned with. 

They had played the Foxes in the semi-finals, beating them by a one-point margin. It had been a good, clean game. Jean had been a little tense on seeing Kevin (they hadn’t spoken since he’d been rescued from Evermore) but his shoulders had immediately relaxed on seeing Renee. 

Renee had given Jeremy a hug after the game, whispering congratulations and giving him a knowing smile. Jeremy didn’t know if it was meant for the Trojan’s win or something else. He still couldn’t figure out if he actually wanted to know. 

Their win against the Foxes had secured the Trojan’s a chance to finally win the Exy Championships. All they had to do was face the Ravens and win. 

At this realisation, Exy practices became tenser. Everyone was pushing themselves to their limits. Coach Rhemann had to remind them more than once to not burn themselves out before their game. 

The Trojan’s needed every single player of their team fit and ready for a chance on the court. 

They’d been improving their fitness levels, adapting the Foxes’ tactics of using the same players for an entire game throughout the seasons. Everyone was now able to play a full game without losing too much steam. And thanks to Jean, as well the Raven drills, their communication and aim and improved tenfold. 

But Jeremy knew that wasn’t what Jean was worried about. 

Jeremy had noticed as their final game drew closer, Jean left the dorm more frequently at night. 

Sometimes, Jeremy would wake far too early in the morning and find Jean’s bed empty. 

One time, on impulse, Jeremy had driven to the court and, sure enough, there was Jean, pushing himself through Raven drills until he couldn’t seem to hold himself up any longer. 

Jeremy hadn’t said anything.

He didn’t know what he could say to ease Jean. 

He hated that he didn’t know.

Soon enough Jean’s all-nighters began to catch up with him, making him drowsy during morning and afternoon practices and even a little sloppy in terms of technique. 

Two nights before their match, Jeremy sat Jean down and voiced his opinion. 

“You need to sleep. I know you’re stressed about the match, we all are, but you’re exhausted. The team needs you on your feet on Friday.”

Jean didn’t hesitate with his response, “I am on my feet. I’m preparing myself for this match so that you might actually win this year.”

That stung but Jeremy could see in Jean’s eyes he didn’t really mean it. That he was putting up his defences again. The scowl he graced Jeremy with said as much.

Jean looked as he did the first time he brought his small bag of belongings to the dorm room, having just met Jeremy without so much as a hello. 

His hair was still growing back in patches then, one or two thin pink scars decorating his face here and there. Kevin had warned Jeremy that Jean would be unwilling to talk, to interact with the team. 

“But he can’t go anywhere alone. That’s the first thing you learn when you’re Raven, you stay with your partner no matter what.”

Jeremy had not liked the idea of keeping up the Raven mentality but he had tried to make Jean feel as comfortable as possible. And he’d succeeded, albeit in small ways. 

Now Jeremy felt as if all that work had shot right down the drain, that he was looking at Jean Moreau face to face for the first time. 

“I know but you need to sleep. I know you don’t think so, but you’re just as human as we are. Everyone needs a rest sometimes, including you.”

That took Jean by surprise. He lifted an eyebrow and returned Jeremy’s gaze with another glare. 

_That isn’t going to work this time. I know you._

Jeremy just kept his gaze on Jean, waiting for him to make a move. 

Eventually Jean took a breath and his scowl lost its brutal intensity. His eyes flashed from Jeremy to the front door and then back again.

“Fine. Just don’t lock the door.”

Jeremy was confused; he didn’t think to do that. He didn’t think it would be necessary. But then he remembered.

All those nights Jean had woken up screaming into his pillow. All those nights Jeremy had switched the light on and rambled on about whatever came to mind. All those nights Jean had refused to look at him but had listened, all the same, fists slowly unclenching, shoulders gradually losing their tension. 

Sometimes Jeremy had talked until dawn. Sometimes it only took an hour and then Jean would murmur a “goodnight”, switching off the bedside lamp. Sometimes Jean had walked straight out of the room and Jeremy would only see him again at morning practice. 

Was that it? Was Jean avoiding sleep, skipping all the steps and just jumping to his resort?

Was Jean worried about his nightmares?

It wasn’t an impossible notion. It actually made sense. 

Jeremy looked at Jean now and could see how fragmented he was. His lids were heavy and his eyes devoid of their usual sharpness. Purple as deep as bruises ringed his eyes, his shoulders slouched. He really was exhausted, his body crying out for relief. 

Jeremy nodded, “I promise I won’t lock the door, but only if you promise to wake me up if you can’t sleep.”

Jean hesitated before nodding once. Without another word, he slowly got up from the living room couch, making his way to the bedroom with an idleness that did not suit him. 

Jeremy would soon learn the promise he’d asked of Jean was unnecessary. 

***

Jean knew he needed sleep. Jeremy knew it as well. But Jeremy didn’t know what awaited Jean behind his closed lids, when he was most vulnerable to the memories of Evermore, of the Ravens. Of Riko. 

Jean took his time getting ready for bed, procrastinating every chance he got. He took ages to strip off the joggers he was going to wear to the court in favour of loose pyjama pants. He took a millennium to brush his teeth and drink one final glass of water. 

By the time he made it to bed he thought centuries must have past, that the Raven game was long gone and that he was an old man living a young man’s fantasy. 

Eventually, his body gave in to its exhaustion, slumping into the mattress and refusing to let Jean try to keep his eyes open a moment longer. 

At first, it was just black. Jean thought maybe he was too exhausted to dream, that when he opened his eyes again it would be morning, the day before their match and he’d be ready to work hard on the court. 

But then he heard it. The slow drag of a knife being sharpened. He saw the glint of dark eyes and a red slash for a smile. Hands held him down as one by one men had their way with him. As Riko slit his wrists for him and then patched them up instantly, then slit them again and again. And again. 

The promise of an end to the pain constantly broken, then made again, then broken. 

He could hear the other Ravens whispering in his ears. Could hear the Master’s cane swoop down to beat his body numb for the hundredth time. 

He could hear Riko telling him to wake up, that he wanted to play a game. That he had a new toy he wanted to try.

To wake up.

_Jean_

Wake up so we can play. 

_Jean! Wake up!_

Don’t you want to play with me? 

_JEAN!_

Jean woke up screaming, slamming his fist into the figure by his bed. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

Jean slammed a fist into his chest, forcing his lungs to work until he felt air rush down his throat, nipping at his lungs to wake up. 

Sweat dripped down his back. He was soaked through, his sheets tangled at the foot of the bed. The bedside lamp had been knocked over, the bulb bare of its shade. Jean saw a shadow on the floor and immediately recoiled. 

“Shit,” it mumbled. 

Jeremy. It was Jeremy. 

Jean moved to the edge of the bed, still breathing heavily, still shaking from adrenaline. 

He looked down at Jeremy. He was clutching his jaw and moving it from side to side. 

Jean tried to speak but he couldn’t. His throat was tight, no words were allowed to escape. Instead, he moved closer, coming to sit on the floor across from Jeremy, his back against his bed. 

Jeremy sighed and then looked up at Jean, hand still holding his jaw, almost cradling it. As if it were sore. As if he’d been punched. 

Jean looked down at his fist. It was still shaking. He was shaking all over. 

“Jean? Jean, it’s okay. You were having a nightmare. I tried to wake you, I shouldn’t have but I couldn’t – I couldn’t stand to hear you screaming like that,” Jeremy’s words tumbled out his mouth, a little unclear here and there because of his jaw. Because he was hurt. Because Jean had hurt him. 

Jean tried to get up, to get away before he did it again. 

He’d hit Jeremy. 

Jean felt two fingers on his wrist before he managed to get up, immediately making him sink back down to the floor. 

“Jean,” Jeremy said, his voice more steady. 

“Jean, look at me.” 

Jean did. 

The bedside lamp illuminated only half of Jeremy’s face, basking him in an artificial golden-yellow glow on the one side, whilst the other was completely lost in shadow. But Jean could still see his eyes. He could still see lake-blue eyes staring at him, grounding him, bringing him back to here, now, _you’re here, at USC, you’re a Trojan, you’re roommate is Jeremy Knox and you’ve kissed him and you liked it._

Jean’s chest heaved. A deep, stuttering breath left him. 

Jeremy waited another moment before continuing, “I’m okay. You didn’t mean to hurt me. I know you didn’t. I forgive you. I’m okay.” 

“Do you know why I did it?” 

“Why you hit me?” 

“No,” Jean said, shaking his head. “No, why I kissed you.” 

Jean could see the confusion in Jeremy’s eyes but he continued all the same. 

“Because I wanted to.” 

It was so simple. And yet it was true. 

_Because I wanted to._

Jeremy looked shocked but then immediately broke into a grin, a small chuckle breaking the silence. He then winced, clutching at his jaw again. 

“Don’t me smile, idiot, it hurts,” he chuckled again. 

“Pardon,” Jean whispered, reaching to cup Jeremy’s other cheek and rubbing his thumb just under Jeremy’s ear. 

“I’m sorry,” Jean whispered. 

“You don’t need to apologise,” Jeremy said, his small smile lighting up his entire face. 

Jean drank in Jeremy’s face, looking everywhere at once. His eyes, his jawline, that beauty mark he still wants to kiss, his lips. He let his gaze stay there a little too long before looking back up at Jeremy’s eyes. 

“Would it hurt, if I –?” He looked down at Jeremy’s lips again, trying to indicate what he meant. 

“I don’t think it would,” Jeremy said, his smile broadening, his face lighting up even brighter – if that were possible. "Just be gentle with me," Jeremy said through his smile. 

Jean couldn't help it. He felt the corner of his mouth tip up, just slightly, enough for Jeremy to notice. Jean wanted him to see it. 

Jean leant in, keeping his right hand out of the way, gripping his knee, his left hand still cupping Jeremy’s cheek. He could feel Jeremy’s breath, could smell faint traces of coffee on him still. He brushed his lips across Jeremy’s gently, so gently. He never wanted to hurt Jeremy again. He knew that that was impossible but that didn’t make him any less determined. 

A small hum escaped Jeremy’s lips, his hand leaving his jaw and choosing to wrap around Jean’s neck instead, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Jean knew Jeremy was still new to this. Technically Jean was as well. He’d never kissed a boy before, not willingly. It was different and yet the same as kissing a girl. He liked it, he liked kissing Jeremy. Even though it was still a little awkward at first, even though their noses bumped sometimes. 

Eventually, they got into a comfortable rhythm, keeping their kisses slow and gentle. 

They kissed for what felt like hours, days, years. Jean didn’t know. He didn’t care. He just wanted to stay like this. He wanted to do this every night. To kiss Jeremy until their lips were raw until they decided to make a cup of tea or coffee and sit on the couch and kiss some more, mingling the taste of too-sweet coffee and bitter tea until neither could tell them apart anymore. 

Jean could get used to this. 

He felt a tug of fear in the pit of his stomach at the thought, but then, looking at Jeremy smiling smugly over the brim of his coffee mug the fear slipped away. 

Yes, maybe he could get used to this. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trojans prepare for their game against the Ravens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! So just a little heads up, the story will be winding down after the Raven vs. Trojan's match. There shouldn't be more than a few chapters after this but I don't know for sure, gonna have to see where the story takes me... I just wanted to say I really enjoyed writing this chapter and I will try to get the next one up sometime next week, but I can't make any promises. 
> 
> Sorry again for the late update and I hope you enjoy!

The Raven game was upon them. 

Jeremy couldn’t keep his legs from shaking. He stood up, shaking out his limbs and rolling his neck so that it might click again. It didn’t.

He had to keep reminding himself to breathe. 

He had to keep reminding himself not to stare at Jean too long. 

A smile crept up, pushing away his nervousness for a second. 

He thought about the night Jean had punched him. His jaw was still bruised. He’d explained to the rest of the team that he’d fallen out of bed, knocked his chin on the bedside table. 

Leila had smiled at that. It had reminded Jeremy of Renee’s knowing smile at the foxes’ last game.

Perhaps they both knew more than they let on. 

Jeremy didn’t like the coldness of the visiting team’s change rooms. Evermore, he felt, was specifically built to make all occupants feel small, perhaps even the Ravens themselves. He’d known the final game would be played at Evermore almost a month in advance. All of the Trojans had known that before they even knew they would the Raven’s chosen opposing team.

If Jean was nervous, he didn’t give anything away, at least, nothing noticeable to the rest of the Trojans. But Jeremy could tell. He could see the tension in Jean’s shoulders, how his hand gripped his knee so that it wouldn’t shake, how his eyes flickered in search of Jeremy’s. 

The looked at each other now, gazes locked. Jeremy gave a nervous smile. No one would be able to tell, but Jean returned it. 

“Alright! Gather round everyone,” Coach Rhemann’s voice was solid and strong. He was the eye of the storm. 

The Trojans gathered around their coach, all looking to each other for comfort, for some indication that they weren’t the only ones nervous.

“Okay, we’re here. We’ve made it. This is a big step, but you already now that,” at that Rhemann looked at Jeremy before continuing his speech.

It was short and to the point but encouraging all the same. 

At the end of it, the Trojans looked a little less anxious. One or two of them even managed a genuine smile. They came together. On Jeremy’s count, they began the USC war cry. Jeremy swung an arm around Jean’s waist (his shoulders being slightly out of reach). Jean was hesitant, lightly wrapping an arm around Jeremy’s shoulder. When Jeremy gave him a glimpse of his real smile, however, Jean’s grip tightened.

The Trojans yelled their war cry at the tops of their voices (Jeremy could hear Jean’s voice in his ears, stumbling over one or two of the words). 

At that moment, Jeremy would have been content just to the end the night there and then: one arm around Jean, the other round Laila, his teammates all nervous but excited, Coach Rhemann with a broad, proud smile on his face. With him being happy. 

But they had a game to play; the Trojans had a chance to prove themselves.

And Jeremy was not about to let that opportunity slip by. 

***

Jean could barely breathe.

Jean wished he could put his helmet on, to obscure his face from any curious onlookers. He’d have to rely on old tactics instead, schooling his features into the scowl that felt like home. At least, it used to. 

He was here, at Evermore, about to play against the Ravens. 

_This used to feel like home too._

He was about to meet his old teammates for the first time in over a year in a completely different uniform.

He –

“Hey,” Jean let the breath he was holding slip out in one shaky puff. 

“Hey,” Jeremy said again, concern evident in his voice. 

He hadn’t asked if Jean was okay. He probably already knew the answer.

_He’s even smarter than I thought._

Jean took another deep breath and returned Jeremy’s look. Electric blue was all he could see. No black, no red, just blue. 

“You ready?” Jeremy asks, not breaking his gaze.

Jean went through his list.

_You’re here, at Evermore, with your new team, the Trojans. You’re about to play against the Ravens. Riko isn’t here but Jeremy is. Jeremy, your roommate, your friend, the boy you’ve kissed, the boy you –_

Jean gave a slight nod. Jeremy returned it with a small smile, clapping Jean on the shoulder before making his way to the front of the lineup. 

“Ladies and gentleman welcome to the final game of –“ Jean blocked out the game announcer’s voice, choosing to continue his list instead.

_You’re here, at Evermore, about to play against the Ravens._

The Trojans started making their way towards the entrance to the outer ring. 

_You’re a Trojan. You’re a_ Trojan. 

Jean could barely hear the announcer over the crowd’s loud cheers at the mention of Jeremy Knox’s name. 

_Jeremy Knox is your roommate, your friend._

“Number 6, starting backliner, Maria Alverez!" 

_Jeremy Knox is the boy you’ve kissed, the boy you –_

“Number 9, starting backliner, Jean Moreau!” 

The immense boom of the crowd interrupted Jean’s thoughts, their cheers causing his ears to ring. He blinked up at the crowd, seeing a mass of blood red and ink black. 

Jean was just thankful the Trojan’s were in their away colours: spots of red on yellow-gold. (He might have mistaken the expanse of red of their usual uniform for something else.) He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not now. 

The announcer finished off the list of names with Laila Dermott, the crowd punctuating his sentence with one final roaring cheer. Jean swore he could see the roof shake. 

Then the Raven’s theme began. 

This time, the roof really did shake, Jean was almost positive. 

Jean waited for one specific name, one specific number to be read. It wasn’t. 

No one had been willing to take up the sacred number. 

“Jean,” Jeremy was practically whispering in his ear. He had not realized he’d stopped. The rest of the Trojans were already seated at their benches, talking among themselves. Jean could feel two fingers at his wrist, feather-light. 

“Jean?” 

Jean didn’t look at Jeremy when he gripped his hand, however, out of the corner of his eye, Jean could see Jeremy’s mouth drop open. 

Jean squeezed Jeremy’s hand before letting go and taking a seat on the bench. He could feel the corner of his lips twitch as pink splotches dusted Jeremy’s cheeks. 

Jeremy’s grin was blinding. 

The two captains met at center court for the coin toss, as per usual. Jean looked closely at the new Raven’s captain. He was a striker, number 5, taller than Jeremy but not by much. He resembled more a long-distance runner than a starting striker. 

Jean furrowed his brows, his interest piquing and pushing back the knots in stomach, albeit for a little while. 

Jeremy won the coin toss. 

The two teams were ushered onto the court, Jean following Alverez with Laila at his back. Somehow, that made him breathe a little easier. 

Jean hesitated only slightly before stepping onto the court, keeping pace with Alverez. He refused to meet any of the Raven’s eyes. 

Jeremy gave him a nod. Jean could just see Jeremy’s barely-there smile behind the grating of his helmet. 

Just after the doors had slammed shut Jean heard his name being called. 

_Too-late_ he thinks when he meets the eye of a Raven backliner. 

Number 7, Baz Emerson. He was ruthless both on and off the court. 

"Nice costume Moreau!” 

Jean grits his teeth but otherwise ignores the jest, choosing to rather focus on Jeremy’s back, the red four prominent on the yellow-gold material. 

He had to admit, the colour choice was not brilliant. 

Jean could feel his pulse quicken, his breath shallow. Sweat was already dripping down his back. He tightened his grip, steadied his stance and waited for the buzzer to go, trying not to eye the countdown. 

Because Jeremy had won the coin toss, he'd chosen to give the Trojan dealer (Angie, Jean thought her name was) the ball to start. 

Jean kept looking for one face in particular but Riko wasn’t there. Instead, the Raven’s new captain gave him a grin. Malice dripped from his teeth. 

Jean stopped breathing just as the buzzer went, signaling for the game to begin. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravens vs. Trojans part two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, part two! I am trying my best to get the next chapter up by tomorrow but I can't make any excuses. Just a warning about verbal abuse and rude language.

Jeremy heard the buzzer go; a loud _thump_ straight after. He turned just in time to see Jean Moreau fall to the floor. 

Jeremy was about to drop his racquet and run, forget the game, forget the Ravens, forget the fact that the ball was _headed his way_. He needed to check on Jean. But just as soon as he was down, Jean got right back up, pushing forward into a striker making their way to Angie and yelling at Jeremy, “Focus!”

Jeremy caught the ball just in time.

***

Jean caught his breath and gave another shove to his mark, watching as Jeremy caught the ball seamlessly and made his way to the goal. 

His head still felt light, spots dancing in the corner of his vision, but otherwise, he’d be okay. He needed to play. He needed to breathe. He needed the Trojans to win.

Jeremy managed to throw the ball to the other Trojan striker just in time before getting checked into the plexiglass wall. Jean swore under his breath when he thought he heard a crack. 

But he needed to focus.

He zoned in on the Trojan striker as they just managed to make a shot on goal. They missed by an inch. 

Once the ball was in their possession, the Ravens retaliated full force. In a flash, Emerson caught the ball and tossed it to the Raven Captain. He was headed straight for Jean. 

_You want to play chicken?_

Jean ran headlong into the captain, managing to check him and swipe the ball in one easy move. Jean spotted Jeremy who was already back on his feet, waiting for the ball. He didn’t even hesitate. Locking eyes with Jeremy, Jean swung his racket. The ball landed dead center in Jeremy’s net. Jeremy sidestepped his mark, barely missing a second check to the plexiglass. He ran straight for the goal.

Jeremy managed to score.

The crowd went wild. Trojan fans screaming their lungs out whilst Raven fans booed and hissed in unison. 

Now the Ravens were angry.

Now they were going to show the Trojans what they could really do.

The Ravens had lost last year to the Foxes, losing their prized player, reputation and coach all in one night. This year they were thirsty to prove themselves. This year, they were reckless.

Two red cards were earned in the first fifteen minutes, one to a striker and one to Emerson. Jean wasn’t surprised. He knew Emerson would blow his top, he just wished he hadn’t taken Alvarez down with him. She sat now on the bench with a sprained wrist, carefully bandaged by the team nurse. However, that didn’t stop her from shouting insults at the top of her lungs. Jean could just see the hidden smile behind Jeremy’s grating of his helmet when Alvarez flung insults to Emerson's back. 

The moment was gone when they started playing again, Jean getting checked by a rough elbow into his stomach.

“And stay down!” the Raven said, about to make her way to the goal. Jean got up and swept her off her feet, causing her to lose the ball. He tossed it to the nearest Trojan, they passed it on upwards to the strikers in the hopes of another goal.

The Raven snarled as she scrambled to her feet and chased after the ball.

She wasn’t the first to take a jab at Jean. Any Raven that passed Jean made sure he knew what they thought of him.

Traitor.

Back-stabber.

Deserter.

Weak.

Disappointment.

Mistake.

Jean let their taunts roll down his back, pushing them to the furthest corners of his mind along with Riko and the rest of Evermore. He’d deal with them later. 

By the end of the first half the two teams were tied with five all. Most of the Trojans who had played struggled to make it to the locker room without limping or rubbing a sore spot. All of the Trojans who hadn’t played didn’t even try to hide their sympathetic winces. 

Jean ripped his helmet off as soon as he got to the water fountain. He’d kept it on, not wanting the crowd to see his face. He was scared he’d give his thoughts away. 

Once they were settled and well-hydrated coach Rhemann came in with notes. Jean only listened with one ear as he saw Jeremy walk in, slowly, with the team nurse at his side.

Jean wasn’t the only one the Ravens seemed to be targeting. Jeremy’s first check to the plexiglass wasn’t his last, let alone the worst. Eventually, Jeremy had had to be taken off; he might not have made it to the end of the first half otherwise. 

His jaw was still purple from when Jean had punched him. But that was the least of Jean’s worries. Jeremy was clutching his side whilst taking a sip of water. 

The plan had been to let Jeremy go on in the last fifteen minutes of the second half but Jean wasn’t sure that was still going to happen now. 

“–reau? Moreau!” Jean turned at the sound of coach Rhemann’s voice. There was complete silence. All eyes were on him, including Jeremy’s.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, ducking his head. He refused to meet anyone’s eyes.

“It’s alright,” Rhemann said, not unkindly, “I was saying that you’re doing good and I’m hoping to put you on in the last fifteen, along with Knox.”

Jean looked at up at that, about to voice his opinion. About to say that Jeremy wasn’t fit to play but then Jeremy caught his eye. With one look Jean clamped his mouth shut. 

Jeremy’s eyes were pleading. 

_Don’t tell him._

Jean knew he should, even if Jeremy didn’t want him to. But then a thought hit him.

This was Jeremy’s last game as captain.

This was Jeremy’s last game as a Trojan.

“Merde.”

“What was that Moreau?”

Jean took one more look at Jeremy before clearing his throat and saying, “Okay, yes.” 

***

Jeremy tried not to wince as he led the Trojans back to the benches, back to the court, back to the game where they were _tied with the Ravens._

They might win.

They might actually win.

Jeremy couldn’t suppress his smile.

He wished the players who were headed to the court good luck, reminding Angie about the play they had decided on during half time.

He didn’t realise Jean was sitting next to him until he heard a whisper in his ear, “I know you can be stubborn sometimes, but even you should know this is a bad idea.”

Jeremy’s smile dropped like a bomb.

“Don’t worry about it, I can barely feel it.”

 _Liar._

Jean did not look convinced but he didn’t say anything either, rather turning his gaze to the game in front of him. 

The buzzer went and the second half went off with a bang. The Trojans were just barely managing to keep their calm, the Ravens’ constant prodding causing one or two yellow cards to be issued in less than ten minutes. 

Jeremy swore silently under his breath. 

This was not good. 

All of the Trojans had trained hard to be fit to run full games, managing to use the same players for most of a game. But they had not taken into account the amount of steam the Ravens manage to burn. Trojans were going on and off the court constantly, the Ravens swatting them one by one like flies. 

Jean was constantly muttering under his breath in French. Jeremy only picked up on a few words, none of them good. When another one of their strikers was sent off due to a dangerous check (she’d practically been flattened by one of the bigger Raven defensive dealers) Jean belt out with full force, “Enculés, vous respectez rien!” 

Alvarez looked over Laila’s shoulder, her face practically split in two she was grinning so hard. “Damn Moreau, got quite the mouth on us don’t we?” 

Jeremy’s mouth dropped wide open.

“You speak French?” 

“Un peu, ici et là,” Alvarez replied. She gave Jean a wink before turning back to the game, shouting insults at a Raven backliner.

Jeremy turned his gaze to Jean, a brow raised in accusation.

Jean scoffed, saying with his eyes, “What? How was I supposed to know?”

Jeremy sighed and turned back to the game, trying to ignore the pain in his side that was acting up again. Once this was over, he was going to stay in bed for a century. 

By the time there was only fifteen minutes left in the game, both the Ravens and the Trojans had managed to pocket another two goals. 

Jeremy's knee bounced up in down in anticipation. This was his last game. His last, real experience of being the captain of the Trojans. When he thought about everything he put himself through, the anxiety, the pressure, it wasn't worth that. It was never worth that. Looking back now he'd do a lot of things differently.

One thing he wouldn't take back is the work. The long hours with Laila to share the responsibilities, his sessions with his therapist, the talks he had with his parents. This, right here, was worth all that work. Being here with his team, with his home away from home, with his two best friends and the boy he really liked at his side. It was nerve wrecking and euphoric all at once. Jeremy didn't know whether to laugh or throw up.

Isabelle came off, panting but still managed a smile in Jeremy's direction before sitting down heavily on the bench. She was joined by one of their newest backliners, Zack. He looked a little graver.

"Knox, Moreau, you're up," Rhemann said.

_Here we go then, now or never._

When Jeremy first tried to get up, the pain was too much, causing him to hunch in on himself. Laila sent him a worried look, quickly eyeing the nurse before turning her gaze back to Jeremy. 

“Jer, are you? –“

“It’s okay, stomach cramps, that’s all.” Jeremy knew it was a lame excuse but it would have to do. He needed to play this game. He needed to help his team. 

But when he tried to get up again the pain increased insurmountably. He was just about to try a third time when he felt a steady hand on his lower back, slowly pushing him up. 

“J'espère que t'es au courant que t'es un vrai idiot,” Jean murmured, for Jeremy’s ears only. 

Jeremy was still weak in his french vocabulary, but he knew enough to understand when he was being called an idiot.

“Just get me on the court, and I promise I'll do anything."

***

Jean still thought Jeremy was being reckless but he didn’t reply. He only led Jeremy onto the court, a light hand guiding him on the small of his back. Once they were on the court, Jean let go, making his way to his position. He’d be playing behind Jeremy this time round, he’d made sure of it with Coach Rhemann. 

Before the doors were shut, the Raven captain stepped onto the court, flicking his head at one of the strikers to get off and get off fast. Before he took his position, however, he made a detour. He came and stood face to face with Jean. Jean stood up to his full height. The captain just made it to his nose. 

“So, you’re the French deserter. How appropriate,” The man sneered as he gave Jean a greasy one over. 

Jean didn’t say anything, choosing to keep his features neutral. He wouldn’t play into this man’s taunts. 

“Can’t say I approve,” the man’s eyes darted to some of the Trojan backliners, ”They seem a little under-rehearsed to be in our little play, don’t you think?”

Jean still said nothing, although his Exy racquet creaked at his tightening grip. 

The man only smiled. He turned, about to make his way back to his place when a thought seemed to occur to him. He turned back to face Jean saying, “Oh and enjoy that while it lasts,” the captain flicked a look back over his shoulder at Jeremy, “Once I’m done with him, you won’t have anyone to suck you off to sleep no more –“ 

Jean didn’t even let him finish before taking aim. 

He was going to hit him. He was going to hit this guy so hard he wouldn’t even remember his first name. But then he stopped, arm still raised, fist still clenched. 

He saw eyes all around him, saw everyone zoned in on them. The referees were waiting, arms outstretched to open the doors to the court. They were waiting to see what he’d do. 

Jean dropped his fist, choosing to haul the captain up to his height by his jersey. He stared into dark, black-brown eyes, gritting his teeth.

“You touch him, any of them, and you will regret the day you chose Exy, fils de pute,” Jean spat on the last word, not caring who heard. 

No one had the right to disrespect the Trojans, to disrespect Jeremy. Not in front of Jean.

He dropped the captain unexpectedly, making him lose his footing and land straight on his back. 

Jean didn’t even spare him a glance; just got into position, stance ready, and racquet held high, his gaze set forward. 

Jeremy spared him a glance over his shoulder. Electric blue shone through the grating of his helmet.

“Are you okay?” he asked with his eyes.

Jean gave a slight nod, ignoring the Raven captain as he picked himself up and made his way to his position opposite Jeremy. 

“Be careful,” was what Jean wanted to say, somehow, but Jeremy had already turned back to face his mark. The Raven Captain gave another one of his malicious grins before getting into stance.

The buzzer went off, ringing in Jean’s ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse the language...
> 
> Enculés, vous ne respectent pas! - bastards, you have no respect!
> 
> Un peu, ici et là. - a little, here and there.
> 
> J'espère que vous comprenez que vous êtes un idiot complet. - I hope you realise you're being a complete idiot.
> 
> Fils de pute. - son of a bitch.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven vs. Trojan game part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final part of the Raven vs. Trojan game! It's long but this isn't end. I don't know exactly how many chapters I'm going to write after this but just know I'm going to start rounding up the story after this one. Hope you enjoy!

Jeremy could hardly breathe. He felt claustrophobic in his helmet, could barely feel his feet they were so numb. 

_Stay focused. Stay focused._

This is what he told himself when he finally got the ball. Jean had rammed straight into the Raven captain as he’d made his way for goal, swishing the ball into Jeremy’s net with one easy stroke. 

Jeremy didn’t know what had transpired between the two men. What he did know was Jean was angry. He was angry and he was dangerous. 

Jeremy didn’t know whether to grin or to grimace. 

He decided neither was important as he made to toss the ball to Jamie, the other Trojan striker on the court. The ball had just left his net when the pain blew his stomach inside out. At least, that’s what it felt like. 

The ball missed its target entirely. Bouncing at a strange angle onto the floor, a nearby Raven dealer was able to scoop it up and toss it all the way down to the other side of the court. Jeremy was about to run after it when he got slammed into from behind.

He went flying forwards, landing solidly on his stomach. Pain screeched all the way up Jeremy’s side. Jeremy held in his scream, choosing to clutch his side rather. 

He needed to get up. He needed to play. 

Just as Jeremy was beginning to sit up he felt something, a heavy something, hit the back of his helmet, causing him to slump forwards again. The stinging in his side wouldn’t go away. Jeremy almost wanted to give in, stick a hand up and say he was done, that was it. But this was his final game. He needed to play. Not for him, but for the Trojans. He needed to prove to himself that he was capable, he needed to prove –

And then Jeremy felt another force, even heavier than the first; make direct contact with his side. This time, Jeremy didn’t hold back his yell.

Jeremy could barely see, everything was blurred shapes and forms. He couldn’t hear a sound, just a sharp ringing in his ears.

Jeremy thought he saw a shape that looked distinctly like Jean before blacking out.

***

Jeremy tried to open his eyes but it hurt too much. 

He didn't know where he was. He could feel plush cushions underneath him, was it leather? A hard pillow under his head, too hard. He moaned, trying to move to make himself more comfortable but he couldn't, not without a sharp kick to the side. The pain felt as much. It felt like he was moving, but he wasn't, was he? No, he was sleeping, at least, he was.

Jeremy barely managed to open his eyes the first couple times, but once he did, he was greeted with an anxious, pale gray gaze. 

"Jean?"

"Dieu merci!" Jean whispered, carding his fingers through Jeremy's hair. 

"What?"

"Is he up?" Laila, it was Laila. She sounded worried, why was she worried? 

"Yes, I think so," Jean said, his words shaky. He kept his fingers in Jeremy's hair, brushing his bangs out his face.

Jeremy looked around, taking in his surroundings. He saw a tin-like roof and red leather seats. He heard tires on a tar road, could almost smell the car fumes. They were on the team bus. Jeremy was lying with his feet dangling over the edge of his seat, his head in Jean's lap. 

His head was in Jean's lap.

"Jean? What, I – What happ –“

“Shhh, it’s alright. I’ll explain when we get back,” Jean was trying. He was trying to be calm for the both of them. But Jeremy could still see the worry in his eyes, in the downturn of his lips, the furrow of his brows. This wasn’t him thinking, not this time. This was Jean generally worried.

“Are you okay?” Jeremy asked.

Jean scoffed. “Am I okay? Do you hear yourself, Jeremy?”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Jeremy retorted, ignoring the slight pain behind his eyes. "And I don’t want to wait until we get back, I want to know what happened, now. Right now, otherwise I’ll –“ as if to prove his point, Jeremy tried to get up, gripping onto the back of the seat to pull himself forwards, but the slight numb feeling in his side immediately turned to a sharp pain again. Jeremy winced. He felt soft hands pull him back down slowly, Jean’s hands. 

“En plus d'être un imbécile, t'es sacrément têtu,” Jean nearly growled. But his fingers went straight back to Jeremy’s hair, so he knew Jean wasn’t too mad.

“I’m not an idiot,” Jeremy said, trying to hold back his smile.

“But you are stubborn,” Jean replied. His eyes crinkled slightly in the corners. 

“Is he up?” Jeremy recognized coach Rhemann’s voice. The man himself popped up behind the back of the seat a moment later, his eyes scanning Jeremy from head to toe. 

Jeremy was still in some of his gear, the heavier padding gone, probably for his comfort. The bright yellow of his jersey seemed a little too happy in that moment, what with Rhemann looking down on him with almost as much worry to match Jean’s. 

“How are you feeling Knox?”

“Like I got run over by a truck. Twice,” Jeremy added a smile, to soften the blow of his words. It didn’t work.

Rhemann said something under his breath, looked up at the rest of his team, and then turned back to Jeremy. “Do you remember anything? Anything before now?”

Jeremy tried to wrack his brains a bit. They were busy with the last fifteen minutes of the second half. The pain in his side had thrown off his aim then…

“Did someone push me?”

“Kid, that’s an understatement.”

“Why? What? –“

“The Ravens targeted you,” Jean grit out through his teeth.

Jeremy turned his gaze back up to Jean, searching for those stormy eyes. Jean wouldn’t look at him, choosing to rather focus on something outside the window. 

“I don’t understand, I –“

“Their captain saw me.”

Jeremy was about to ask what he saw when he felt Jean grip his hand. Lightly, a barely-there touch. 

Oh.

_Oh._

“They figured to get to me they had to get to you, seeing as their… jabs weren’t doing anything.” Jean looked as if he was about to punch the window. 

Jeremy reached up slowly, not caring who saw as he cupped Jean’s jaw. 

Jean looked down at him and Jeremy tried to give him a small smile. 

Jean continued, “They moved the ball down to the other side of the court, so most of us were… distracted,” Jean bit out that word; Jeremy could almost taste the poison on his tongue. “Then their captain took advantage of your being…”

Jeremy nodded, not wanting to hear it but prompting Jean to carry on anyway.

“He started beating you.”

“He what?”

“Keyword there is started,” Jeremy heard Alvarez but couldn’t see her. He guessed she was probably sitting with Laila, wrist still bandaged because of that jerk of a striker.

_Beating. I was being beaten._

“Did the referees? –“

“They didn’t get there in time,” Rhemann interjected, a small smile now on his face. “But Moreau did.”

Jeremy looked up again to find Jean looking at him, his eyes wide and almost as pale as snow. 

“You –“

“I managed to get him off you. Once the paramedics managed to get a look at you and the captain –“

“He had to be escorted out of the building! It was fucking fantastic! They had to handcuff him and everything. Serves him right the little –“ Alvarez stopped at a look from coach Rhemann. Jeremy couldn’t help but smile. He wished he’d been there to see it. But he hadn't even been conscious at the time.

“Wait." 

He hadn't been conscious.

"What happened?"

He hadn't seen the last of the game.

"To the game, afterwards when I –“

“Putain, you’re stubborn,” Jean hissed under his breath. He gave Jeremy a quick once over before continuing, “Once everything was… sorted out we technically ran out of time. So we were given a shot on goal.”

The Ravens and the Trojans had been tied if Jeremy remembered correctly. They’d been tied seven all. So if the Trojans had made that shot on goal then –

“And?” Jeremy couldn’t hide the thrill in his voice.

There was a soft silence in the bus. All Jeremy could hear was the whirring of the tires on the road. 

Jeremy slumped. He physically slumped even further down, if that were possible. 

They’d lost. 

The Trojans had lost.

Jeremy was running through words in his head, trying to think of something to say when Jean bent down.

He whispered in Jeremy’s ear, “We got it.”

“What!”

Immediately the bus was filled with chaotic noise. Laughing, cheering, people clapping and screaming one over the other with the details of the shot. How Jamie had just managed to get it into the top corner. How the Trojans had won the Exy Championships. 

They’d won.

The Trojans had won. 

And Jeremy hadn’t been there to see it. 

He managed to keep up his grin while Laila came over to talk to him. She and Jean exchanged a few words before Alvarez pulled her girlfriend back, saying Jeremy needed his beauty sleep.

Jeremy immediately let his grin drop when the two girls were gone, shutting his eyes and laying back on the seat.

“You’re disappointed.” 

Jeremy peaked through one eye up at Jean. He was looking down at Jeremy with an indiscernible look on his face. 

“A little,” Jeremy admitted. They’d gotten past sidestepping in conversations, Jeremy figured. If he couldn’t admit this to Jean then who was really kidding?

“You shouldn’t be.”

“I know. They won,” Jeremy nodded his head, indicating the rest of the team.

“No, we won. We all did, including you. Because of you.”

“I let them down,” Jeremy said, letting some his anger seep through the cracks, “I wasn’t there for them.”

“But you were. You were there for them even though you shouldn’t have been and that was your downfall.” 

Jeremy clamped his mouth shut. The harshness of Jean’s words was just starting to sink in when Jean continued, “But it was also your strength. It was our armor,” Jean looked back over his shoulder to the rest of the Trojans before returning his gaze to Jeremy. “I hate to say it Knox, but your stubbornness is the reason we won, whether you were there or not to see it doesn’t matter. They all played for you. With everything they had. You should have seen everyone when they realized what was going on.”

Jeremy noticed Jean’s slightly swollen lip for the first time, the purple and blue sprouting under one eye. Jean must have taken a few hits before the Raven captain was finally escorted out. 

Jeremy reached out, lightly cupping Jean’s chin again. 

“I’m sorry.”

Jean only shook his head. 

“You’re always sorry when you shouldn’t be, and never are when you should.”

“That’s quite the tongue twister Moreau,” Jeremy said, hoping to lighten the mood, to move away from the Raven game. He needed time to think about this, to process it. But that could wait. Right now he had a slightly smiling Jean above his head and a whole bus of celebrating Trojans to keep him company. Jeremy couldn’t be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French translations (sorry if they're not perfect, I am using Google translate so if anyone wants to correct me I'm more than willing to make changes)
> 
> Dieu merci! - Thank god!
> 
> En plus d'être un imbécile, t'es sacrément têtu. - Besides being a moron, you're very stubborn


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is pondering life after finals, Jeremy is slowly recovering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a transitional chapter into the next, much longer, much bigger chapter. I'm sorry to keep you guys waiting. Most of my assessments are nearly done so hopefully I'll have more time to finish off the story properly!  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Jean felt stiff all over.

It was nearly a week after finals but that hadn’t stopped him from going to the court every other night. He needed to blow off steam. He needed an outlet.

Every time he let his mind wander it would remind him of what had happened to Jeremy. Of how much worse it could have been.

But he’d gotten to Jeremy in time. He was fine. Jeremy was fine. That was something Jean still had to remind himself of. He thought, that, perhaps, if he kept it on repeat, he might actually believe it eventually.

He could see Jeremy’s sleeping form under his blankets across the room, a soft snore filling the early morning silence. Sunlight was peaking through Jeremy’s curtains, the light just hitting the soft line of his jaw. 

Jean got up quietly, padding over to Jeremy’s bed. He adjusted the curtain so that the light wouldn’t shine in Jeremy’s eyes. 

Jeremy had not been sleeping well, not since the Raven game. 

He deserved as much sleep as he could get.

Jeremy didn’t have nightmares waking him up in the middle of the night. For that to happen he would actually need to be asleep. Jeremy couldn’t fall asleep, period. Not unless he was entirely exhausted.

Some nights he had been willing to let Jean drag him to the court (to watch, not to play). Other nights he had refused to go near an Exy racquet. On those nights, Jean had made extra milky hot coco and sat up with Jeremy until he couldn’t possibly keep his eyes open any longer. 

Sometimes even that had not worked. 

Jeremy said he’d talked to his therapist the day before and that she’d prescribed some sleeping tablets for until his mind learned to settle itself again. 

At this point, Jean didn’t care how Jeremy got to sleep, so long as he did. And besides, by the sound of Jeremy’s snores, the pills seemed to be working.

Jean had been surprised the night, or rather the morning, the Trojans got back to USC. After the finals Jeremy had been given some pain medication on the bus trip back, ensuring at least one good night’s sleep. Once he’d made sure Jeremy was tucked in bed, Jean had practically flung himself onto his own. As soon as his head had hit the pillow he’d conked out. He’d woken up late that afternoon, no recollection of any dreams whatsoever. 

Jean knew he shouldn’t get used to it, but some small part of him hoped that such a thing could become the norm; that the nightmares would only come every once in a while. He could hope for that much. 

As Jean walked back in with his usual cup of black tea he saw a pair of bright blue eyes staring at him from underneath Jeremy’s covers.

“Morning,” Jeremy mumbled.

“Morning,” Jean said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

He didn’t know what to do with himself. Standing there in only his briefs and a shirt, Jean felt a little too bare. 

“Do you want a cup?” Jean asked eventually, indicating his tea mug. 

“I can make it,” Jeremy said. He began to push aside his blankets, about to swing his legs around when he clutched his side. Jeremy winced, swearing under his breath before collapsing back into his pillows. 

“Offer still stands,” Jean said, trying to hide his smirk behind his mug. He knew he shouldn’t be smiling, but Jeremy’s stubbornness was something that either amuse or irritate Jean. There was never an in-between.

“If you’d be so kind?” Jeremy replied with a small smile. 

Jean turned just in time to hide his broadening smile. 

Jean took his time in the kitchen. He was stalling and he knew it. He and Jeremy had not really talked. Sure, Jeremy would start light conversation and Jean would go along with it, nodding most of the time and only interjecting partly. But he knew, eventually, they would need to talk about the Raven game. It had been Jeremy’s final game as a Trojan and he’d practically missed out on the game changer (although, technically, _he_ had been the game changer). 

Placing Jeremy’s mug of extra sweet coffee on his bedside table, Jean quickly slipped on a pair of sweat pants before getting back into his own bed. 

Jeremy sat up slowly, making sure to accommodate for his still aching side – when the nurse had finally gotten a good look at Jeremy, Jean had seen only purple and blue. The sight was all too familiar. 

He’d nearly retched. 

Jeremy had managed to place his pillows behind his back now, sitting up comfortably with his mug in his hands. He blew on the steaming coffee even though there was enough milk in there to make it drinkable. 

“Thanks, it’s perfect,” Jeremy mumbled after taking a tentative sip.

“You’re welcome,” Jean replied, finishing the last of his tea. He kept the mug in his hands, the warmth soothing. 

The two men remained in comfortable silence for the duration it took for Jeremy to finish his coffee. 

It was Sunday. Everyone had finished the last of their assessments the week before already, leaving the final week of the term free for the student body of USC to do as they pleased. For Jeremy that meant recovering before graduation. He’d been scouted in the beginning of the year already and had chosen to sign with one of the most high ranked Exy teams in America. He’d be staying with his parents for half of the summer, the other dedicated to summer practices. 

Jeremy’s future was laid out before him like the red carpet.

For Jean… he didn’t quite know what he was going to do. He still had one more year at USC, meaning he needed a place to stay this summer. He didn’t want to intrude on Renee again, even though she had said he was more than welcome. 

He had not heard from Kevin since the Trojans’ game versus the Foxes. Besides a few polite words, nothing else had transpired between Jean and Kevin that night. Jean had been expecting as much. The idea to phone Kevin jiggled at the back of his mind, but Jean pushed it away for now. 

“So,” Jeremy said, having finished his coffee. 

It wasn’t a question so Jean couldn’t think of a reason to say anything. Instead, he opted for returning Jeremy’s gaze. 

“Do you want to do something tonight?”

Jeremy was caught off guard, stuttering “W-what?” 

Jean was a little caught off guard himself.

The idea had just popped into his head. Simple as that. 

“I asked if you wanted to do something tonight. Unless you have plans with Laila? –“

“No! I mean,” Jeremy coughed, trying to recollect himself. Jean smiled just a little. “I don’t have any plans,” Jeremy finished, crossing his arms before thinking better of it and letting his hands fall into his lap instead. 

Jean only nodded before saying, “Do you want another?”

“Hm?” Jeremy seemed very out of sorts, most likely lost in his thoughts. He had that look in his eye, the slight shifting of the deep lake-blue that hinted he was daydreaming. 

“Do you want another?” Jean repeated, lifting his mug in the air as he made his way to the doorway.

“Oh! Uh, no, it’s okay. I need to try get up anyway.” Jeremy took his time this time round. Slowly shoving his sheets away, he swung one leg at a time to the floor. He took a deep breath before standing up. After a second, Jeremy started making his way to the doorway. 

“Excuse me,” he said, a deep blush forming on his cheeks. 

Jean realized he was standing in the middle of the doorway, blocking Jeremy’s path. 

“Désolé,” he said, before stepping to the left. 

Jeremy mimicked him, consciously or not, Jean didn’t know.

“You’re still my blocking way,” Jeremy whispered, his blush deepening. 

“Right, sorry,” Jean stepped back, away from the doorway, leaving enough space for Jeremy to make his way slowly to the living room. 

Jean had to remind himself not to stare. 

***

Jeremy could feel himself recovering, albeit gradually. Every day it got a little bit easier for him to get up in the morning, the pain in his side subsiding more and more often. The sleeping pills Noreen had given him worked like a bomb. 

Of course with sleep came nightmares. 

It had kept repeating itself over and over again, the same short vignette. Jeremy being pushed to the ground, having his side kicked, someone lifting him by his jersey, about to punch his face. Then it would rewind and start again. Sometimes the dream would get stuck like a broken record, the Raven throwing a punch over and over again until Jeremy had lost count. Eventually the dream had faded and Jeremy had fallen into a deep sleep but now that he was awake, the dream kept replaying itself again and again behind Jeremy’s lids, right in the back of his mind. 

He shook his head, trying to concentrate on not spilling his coffee as he poured himself a second cup. He added a little less sugar and more milk this time round, with a teaspoon of hot coco powder. 

Standing on the opposite side of the living room doorway, Jean looked out of the window, still holding his now empty cup of tea. How he managed to take it black Jeremy couldn’t comprehend. His coffee had to at least have one teaspoon of sugar in it before he could deem it drinkable. 

Jeremy settled onto the couch. Jeremy took a sip of his coffee, taking a second glance at Jean. He smiled into his cup


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's sets up a surprise for Jeremy, Jeremy finally asks the important questions.

“Can you not just tell me where we’re going?”

“No,” Jean said, letting his mouth skew into a grin. He figured, since Jeremy’s eyes were covered, it was safe to do. 

Jeremy had been wary of a blindfold at first but after some persuasion, he’d agreed to Laila’s bright pink eye mask. Jeremy had warned Jean of the consequences if anyone found out. That had only made Jean chuckle. 

“This seems like a lot of trouble…” Jeremy said now. They were in Jean’s car with Jean behind the wheel whilst Jeremy sat in the passenger seat, totally unawares of his surroundings. Jeremy’s elbow rested on his door, head in hand, his other hand tapping nervously at his knee. 

“Why would you think that?” Jean asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“I mean, you seemed to put a lot of thought into this for someone like – for, um,” Jeremy was stuttering slightly, words fitting awkwardly in his mouth. _Is he flustered?_

“Of course I would,” Jean said, sounding a little sterner than he’d wanted. 

Jeremy ducked his head, his fingers ceasing their nervous tapping. He bit his lip. Jeremy rarely did this. When he did, though, it usually meant he was extremely embarrassed. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking –“

“No, you weren’t,” Jean said, dropping his stern tone.

Jeremy looked in Jean’s general direction, his mouth quirking slightly. He must have heard the smile in Jean’s voice. 

“We’re here,” Jean said, switching off the car, “Wait here.”

“Can’t really go anywhere else can I?” Jeremy snarked. He was grinning from ear to ear. 

Jean resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he opened the boot of his car. Once Jean had explained what he wanted to do, Laila had been a big help. He could not have thought of anyone better to ask, seeing as Laila was Jeremy’s closest friend. And especially because the idea was so last minute.

Once Jean had told her his plans she’d been ecstatic, she’d practically squealed. Jean hadn’t even known such a sound was possible. 

Looking at the set up now, Jean smiled, silently thanking Laila for her assistance. 

“Hey!”

Jean turned to see Jeremy leaning out of his window, Laila’s pink eye mask still secured. 

“Remember me?” the grin on Jeremy’s face couldn’t be described as anything other than cheeky.

“Oh, right,” Jean, said, letting a little sarcasm seep into his words. 

“You didn’t honestly forget about me right?” Jeremy asked, his grin broadening as Jean opened Jeremy’s door for him.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that is possible. Watch your! –“

“Shit!” Jeremy rubbed at his head where it had bumped the doorframe. 

“Désolé,” Jean said, placing a hand lightly on the small of Jeremy’s back. 

“It’s um – It’s uh, okay. It’s okay,” Jeremy stuttered. He bit his lip again. 

Jean didn’t say anything as he led Jeremy away from the car. 

***

Jeremy couldn’t see a thing. It was frustrating and at the same time exciting. No one had ever really done something like this for him. The bright pink eye mask, he felt, was a bit much but he went along with it all the same. The way Jean had said “Trust me”, his gray eyes softening at the edges, how could Jeremy not have trusted him?

His head still hurt. Everything still hurt, even though he’d taken the last of his pain medication. His side still hurt occasionally when he walked but Jean was walking at a slow pace, for Jeremy’s sake. 

Jeremy felt at the top his head. Besides a slight twinge of pain, there didn’t seem to be any bump or blood. And anyway, once Jean had placed his hand on Jeremy’s back, whatever pain there was had washed away. Everything seemed to disappear. All Jeremy could focus on was the heat licking up his spine. He could feel his cheeks burning and thanked god that the mask covered most of his face. 

Jean wasn’t saying anything. At least, Jeremy didn’t think he was. He couldn’t really think straight, not with Jean this close to him.

They seemed closer, after the Raven game... At least, that was what Jeremy felt. He didn’t know if Jean felt the same. He was too afraid to ask. Which was ridiculous, seeing as Jean was probably the bluntest person Jeremy had ever encountered. And yet…

“Okay,” Jean said, practically whispering in Jeremy’s ear. Jeremy shivered. He couldn’t help it. 

They stopped walking but Jean’s hand stayed on Jeremy’s back. 

Jeremy smiled to himself. 

He didn’t want Jean to move, this felt almost too perfect. Jeremy could feel a slight breeze on the back his neck, raising goose bumps on his bare arms. They must be outside, that much was evident seeing as Jeremy could feel long grass brushing his jean-clad legs. Where were they?

“You can take the mask off,” Jean said. His voice shook, just slightly. _Is he nervous?_

Slowly, Jeremy raised his hands to his makeshift blindfold, slipping the mask off his face. 

Jeremy’s jaw dropped. 

A gigantic picnic blanket was laid out over a soft patch of grass, surrounded by Chinese lanterns. On closer inspection, Jeremy could see they were battery operated, but the warm glow that shone through the red and orange tissue paper was still mesmerizing. The blanket was adorned with a few pillows as well as a basket and an ice bucket with – was that champagne?

After a long period of silence, Jean asked, “Do you want to sit down?” 

“Can I?” Jeremy asked, still dazed. The picture was too perfect; it felt like a scene from one of Laila’s chick flicks. Had Jean really gone to all this trouble?

“That is the point,” Jean said, sounding uncertain. 

Jeremy was finally able to tear his eyes away from the picnic, turning his gaze up to Jean. His defenses were up, his face looking stern. His eyes were cold, steel gray. 

“Hey,” Jeremy said, placing two fingers lightly on Jean’s wrist.

Jean snapped out of his reverie. 

“Come on,” Jeremy said, finding a comfortable spot to sit on the blanket. Taking his injuries into account, Jeremy had to ease himself slowly onto the blanket. He managed mostly until he lost his balance, falling lightly into the center of the blanket. 

“Whoops,” Jeremy said, laughing at himself.

Jean hesitated. 

Jeremy smiled to himself. Seeing Jean like this, wanting to make Jeremy happy, having gone to all this trouble, having seen Jeremy’s reaction and yet was still nervous… It was endearing. 

“Come on,” Jeremy said again, but not above a whisper. He let his real smile show through, the little one. The only one his family and people like Laila and Jean were privy to. 

Jean walked over to the blanket, slowly, sitting down little ways away from Jeremy. 

Jeremy wanted to close the gap immediately. But he didn’t. They both needed to take this slowly. He understood that and he knew Jean wanted that as well. 

Whilst they’d been… closer they hadn’t really touched save for a few grazes of hands on arms or their shoulders bumping as they walked side by side. Sure, Jean had helped Jeremy get out of bed whilst his injuries were still new, and yes Jean’s feather-light touches had still left a fire trail long after but… it wasn’t the same as cupping Jean’s cheek or wrapping his arms around his neck. It wasn’t the same as resting his head lightly in the curve of Jean’s neck. He wanted to. He could feel his fingers trembling with the want. But he didn’t. This couldn’t be rushed. 

Instead, he had Jean unpack the picnic basket. It was filled to the brim with almost all of Jeremy’s favourite foods. And by foods, Jeremy meant desserts. There wasn’t a single healthy thing in sight. Jeremy had to stop himself from drooling. 

“What are you going to eat?” Jeremy asked with mock concern, already piling his paper plate with one of each. Jean didn’t like sweets. He didn’t like sugar full stop. 

“Already covered,” Jean said, taking a rather large container of what looked like chicken caesar salad out of the bottom of the basket. 

Jeremy couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. 

Jean raised a brow at Jeremy’s shaking form, “What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know,” Jeremy said between chuckles. “This whole thing, it’s too perfect. You sure I didn’t overdose on my pain meds?” 

Jean’s face went blank. It only made Jeremy laugh more. 

Eventually, they both dug into their respective dinners, Jeremy licking chocolate sauce from his fingers whilst Jean ate his salad in small bites. 

They talked a little, here and there. Jeremy did most of the talking but he didn’t mind. He knew Jean was listening, and he liked to see the thoughts running behind Jean’s eyes. 

“Nearly forgot,” Jean said, having put aside his salad, “We still have this.” He lifted the champagne bottle out of its ice bucket and grabbed two champagne flutes from the basket. Jeremy had to wipe his hands on his pants before taking his glass, not wanting to stain it with chocolate frosting. 

Jean loosened the cork. It went flying with a loud _pop_ , spilling champagne froth on the grass. Jeremy rushed to place his glass under the steaming fountain, managing to catch most of the flow. Once Jeremy’s glass was full, Jean poured some into his own, placing the bottle back into the ice bucket for safe keeping. 

“What should we toast to?” Jeremy asked. 

“I don’t really know,” Jean said. His eyes reflected the orange and red glow of the lanterns, setting them alight. It looked like molten gold with splashes of silver. 

“How about…” Jeremy looked around, trying to think. He looked up and saw the stars for the first time that night. That’s when he realized where they were. 

They were at Destiny.

He really did think of everything…

“How about to Destiny?” Jeremy asked, almost to himself.

“Destiny?” 

“You know,” Jeremy said, indicating their surroundings and taking another look up at the sky. All of the constellations jumped out at him. Scorpius and Cancer and all the others he and Jean had traced together. It reminded him of the first night he had brought Jean here. It reminded him of the first time they had kissed.

Jeremy hesitated before looking back to Jean. He was worried he’d been too cheesy with his suggestion. But Jean was glowing. His eyes were even more alight, his dark brown hair almost bronze. And he was smiling. Just barely, but it was a smile nonetheless. 

“Alright,” Jean said, his voice low and rough. 

They kept their gazes locked as they touched glasses. 

Jeremy had never tasted champagne before so he didn’t know what to expect. When the liquid spilled onto his tongue bubbles tickled at his nose. He swallowed and waited for the taste. It was odd at first, slightly bitter, but then sweetness overwhelmed his taste buds, washing away the chocolate and cinnamon of his dinner. Jeremy couldn’t place it, but the taste was almost familiar. He took another, larger, sip of his champagne, practically emptying his glass. Again, first the bitterness and then the overwhelming sweetness. Again, the taste of familiarity and yet the unknown.

“Something the matter?” Jean asked. 

“I can’t place it, but I’ve definitely tasted this before.” 

Jean was still glowing. His eyes were soft again, the one corner of his lips barely upturned as he studied Jeremy. His glass was still half full. 

Jeremy placed his glass down on the lid of the basket, lowering his gaze. He didn’t know how to phrase it. But it needed to be said. He had to ask. 

“Jean… I, um –” Jean put his glass down beside Jeremy’s. Jeremy could feel Jean’s gaze. Jeremy twisted his fingers together, not knowing what else to do. 

“I… Thank you, first off. I didn’t say thank you,” Jeremy said, rambling in order to buy himself some time. 

Jean said nothing, waiting for Jeremy to continue. He always knew when Jeremy was stalling. 

“Knox? Is something wrong? Are your injuries? –“

“No, that’s fine. I, I’m doing much better, thanks to the meds and you, obviously…” 

Jeremy wanted to slap himself. 

“You’re welcome,” Jean said. Jeremy couldn’t read anything in his voice. Why was Jean always so good at hiding at what he was thinking?

_Because he spent most of his life in the Nest._

Jeremy chastised himself. He knew what had happened at the nest would always be a part of Jean. He knew Jean would still probably wake up most nights because of what he had to endure. Because of what Riko and Tetsuji and the rest of the Raven’s had inflicted upon him. All for fun. All for sport. All for Exy. He knew that if he and Jean ever were to become something _more_ that he might never know what exactly had happened but he would know the harsh consequences. He knew that they would take things slow, go at Jean’s pace. He knew he would have to ask permission before he tried anything new. He knew that it would difficult and maybe even tiring at points and yet –

Jeremy knew it was worth it. As long as they could discuss books and traveling and complete nonsense for hours on end. As long as he could sit in the passenger seat of Jean’s car and listen to the radio station he liked so much. As long as he could witness another of Jean’s small smiles, no matter what it takes. As long as he could see Jean’s guard drop and his eyes go soft at the edges. As long as he could talk to Jean about his problems openly and not have to worry about being judged. As long as Jean knew that Jeremy would do the same. As long as he was with Jean then it would be worth it. 

“Jean,” Jeremy said, trying to keep his voice from shaking, “I want to know that, I um – that I really –“

Jean’s face didn’t change. Nothing gave away his thoughts. 

Jeremy spat it out.

“I really like you and that’s the lamest way to state it but I don’t want to scare you by saying love because obviously we’ve only kinda kissed once or twice but I really want to kiss you again, if you want, obviously, I’d never make you do anything you didn’t want to, and I just… I’m really happy that I met you.”

Jean’s face dropped. His eyes widened, his mouth gaped slightly. His cheeks looked blood red in the light of the lanterns. 

Jeremy could feel his own cheeks burning. He was burning all over. 

_I just said that. I actually just said that._

The two men stared at each other for what felt like an age. Jeremy held his breathe. 

“I,” Jean started then stopped. He ducked his head down, finally breaking his gaze away from Jeremy’s. Jeremy could feel his pulse in his throat. His fingers were still tangled together in his lap, clamped tight. 

“I’m sorry, I… I shouldn’t have –“ Jeremy began, not knowing how else to break the silence when Jean reaches forward and clamps his hand over Jeremy’s mouth. 

“Never apologize for speaking your feelings,” Jean said, almost growled. His eyes were burning again. Molten lava thought Jeremy as Jean moved his hand away.

“Désolé,” whispered Jean, placing his hand in his lap. 

“’S okay,” Jeremy whispered back. 

His mouth was on fire. 

“Do you think, if you want to obviously, and I understand if you don’t because we’ve only really gotten to know each other these last few month but –“

“Knox,” Jean said, his brow arched. _Just say it_

“Do you think maybe we could try and see where this,” Jeremy indicated between himself and Jean, “might go if we maybe did more of this,” he then indicated the picnic around them. 

“Do you mean if we were to date?” Jean asked. 

Jeremy couldn’t help but a let a small huff of a laugh escape. Jean, blunt as always. But that was one of the things Jeremy loved about him. 

“Yeah, if you’d like to, that is. And, like I said, I understand if you don’t and I’ll totally respect that but I just had to know if this,” Jeremy indicated between themselves again, “was maybe a possibility in the future?”

Jean looked at Jeremy, his face still giving nothing away until he said, “Alright.”

“S-sorry?” 

“Oui, yes. I’d like to see where this,” Jean indicated between himself and Jeremy, “will go.”

Jeremy was stunned. He had known that this answer had been a possibility but all the same he had prepared for the other outcome. In fact, he had expected it. But now, looking Jean who was looking at him as if there wasn’t a sky full of stars above their heads as if there wasn’t anything but Jeremy, Jeremy laughed at himself for even thinking Jean would say no. 

“Jeremy?”

Jeremy hummed his response, unable to speak. 

“Earlier, while you were rambling,” at that Jean’s mouth quirked just slightly, “you said that you wanted to kiss me again.”

Jeremy nodded, just slightly.

Jean leaned in, placing his lips against Jeremy’s ear, “May I kiss you?”

Jeremy nodded again, about to say something, anything, when he felt the soft press of Jean’s lips on his own. It was soft, so soft. And why wouldn't it be? It was Jean. 

Jeremy hummed into Jean’s mouth, slowly entwining his hands around Jean’s neck. Jean cupped one of Jeremy’s cheeks, using his other hand to pull Jeremy closer by the waist. Their knees knocked a little at first until Jeremy placed his legs on either side of Jean’s waist, feet firmly set on the blanket. They were close but they still weren’t pressed too close together. He didn’t want to rush this, he didn't want to push Jean's boundaries. Jean did the same with his legs, placing them loosly on either side of Jeremy's waist before scooting just a little closer. Their bodies were barely a breath apart.

“Is this okay?” Jean asked leaning back just slightly so he and Jeremy’s eyes could lock. 

“Yeah, if you’re okay, I’m okay,” Jeremy said, letting his lips tilt up into his small smile. He couldn’t be happier than he was right then. With Jean in his arms and the stars over their heads and no one else to witness how special this moment was. How special Jean was, to Jeremy.

Jean’s lips quirked again before he leaned in, parting Jeremy’s lips with his own. Their mouths moved as one, only breaking apart to lock on to the other’s cheek or neck before rushing back. This was exhilarating. This was so new to Jeremy, and he loved it. He loved Jean and how he made him feel. How he felt like he was caught in a fire that would never cease to burn. 

They would take it slow, and Jeremy was okay with that. They would take the time to learn about one another, things that no one else knew. They would help each other, support one another. That’s what you did for the people you liked after all. 

_That’s what you did for the people you loved._

They kissed for hours. It felt like years to Jeremy. 

He savored every minute of it. 

Jean insisted on taking everything back himself on account of Jeremy’s injuries, even though Jeremy assured him multiple times that he was capable of at least helping. In the end, they compromised. Jean took all of the heavy-duty stuff whilst Jeremy carried the blanket and pillows. 

Once everything was in the boot and the trunk was tightly shut Jeremy reached for Jean’s cheek, his eyes asking _Is this okay?_

Jean nodded before allowing himself to pulled into a quick kiss. Jeremy couldn’t stop grinning the entire time. The best part was he could feel Jean was smiling too, albeit less noticeably. 

As they finally sat back into their respective seats, Jean turning on the radio and finding the station he liked, Jeremy finally realized where he recognized the taste of the champagne. 

It was the stars. And it was Jean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I am so sorry for the very late update! I really wanted to get this chapter right seeing as its technically the last one. The next will be a little epilogue just to round off the story. 
> 
> I just wanted to take the time to say thank you to everyone whose read my story. I can't tell you how much the amazing feedback I've gotten has meant to me. I was very apprehensive about publishing this here at first seeing as I've never really allowed anyone to read my writing but after reading all of your amazing comments, it's really what kept me going, and I'm so glad that I did.
> 
> Thank you the support and thank you for sticking with Jean and Jeremy through all of this! I've loved writing my take on their story and characters and I can only hope you did as well xx
> 
> EDIT:
> 
> I have a fanedit??? Like, I nearly screamed with joy, it's so so pretty just, please check it out:
> 
> http://deliciouslysubtledelusion.tumblr.com/tagged/fic%3A-he-could-taste-the-stars


	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set a few years after Jeremy's graduation, Jean and Jeremy have been together happily for some time now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. I honestly have no excuse as to why I'm only updating now. I can only say I'm really truly sorry and hope you can accept this final little chapter as an apology. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read thus far, thank you for sticking with me throughout writing Jean and Jeremy's story. I can't tell you how much this has helped me develop as a writer, as well as personally. 
> 
> Just, yeah, thank you and, for the final time, I hope you enjoy x

Jean woke to sunlight in his eyes. 

Scrunching them shut a moment longer, he finally let them flutter open. Sleep stuck his eyelashes together, making sleep appear far more inviting. He stretched instead, willing himself to wake up. His hand brushed the pillow next to him. 

It was still warm.

Jean turned to find the right-hand side of the bed empty. The corner of the covers was folded over slightly. Finally, he decided to sit up, running a hand through his mess of dark curls. 

It took time and effort but eventually he managed to get himself out of bed. He saw a cup of black tea waiting for him on his bedside table and took a sip before picking up the first shirt his size off the floor. He maneuvered it over his head whilst juggling his cup of tea from one hand to the other. 

He was blinded momentarily by more sunlight when he entered the living room. Jean raised his hand in order to block the harsh light, eyelids fluttering once again before he focused on the figure on the couch. 

He was wearing his glasses, mug of too-sweet coffee in one hand and a well-worn book in the other. The pages were folded over, straining at the already-frail binding. Jean tsked under his breath before making his way over to the couch. 

He leaned down and planted a kiss on his favourite target: the beauty mark on the man’s left cheek.

“Morning,” Jean whispered.

“Morning,” Jeremy replied, finishing off another page before laying his book down on the coffee table.

“What time is it?” Jean asked, not really caring but wanting to go through the routine anyway. It was their routine, making small talk in the morning just to hear one another’s voices. 

“Nearly eleven,” Jeremy replied, smiling slightly as he took a quick sip of his coffee. 

“Why’d you let me sleep so late?”

“I only woke up a half hour ago, and besides, you looked peaceful,” Jeremy was cradling his mug to his chest now, letting the steam fog up his thin-framed glasses.

“You forgot to close the curtains last night again,” Jean said, taking the mug out of Jeremy’s grasp and placing it gently alongside his own. He turned back to a blushing Jeremy whose glasses seemed even more fogged up. 

“Sorry, is that what woke you?”

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind all that much,” Jean brushed his lips against the corner of Jeremy’s jaw before continuing, “It would have been nice to cuddle in bed, though.”

“Th-that so?” Jeremy stammered as Jean trickled kisses down his neck. 

“Mmhm,” Jean mumbled into Jeremy’s shoulder, pulling the neck of his shirt away to bare enough skin for him to taste. Jeremy jumped slightly under his touch. This was what he loved the most after all these years with Jeremy: no matter how many times he kissed him, Jeremy would still react as if it were their first kiss. As if they were still college students, shy and unsure of what to do. As if they were under the blanket of stars in an empty field in the middle of nowhere. 

Jeremy recovered himself, pulling away slightly from Jean only to catch at his arms. “Well,” Jeremy said, letting his tongue linger on the “L” as he kissed his way up Jean’s arm. He let his lips loiter on each of Jean’s tattoos, silently spelling out the word at his wrist, tracing the fox’s pink tail at the crook of his elbow. 

Jean had gotten his fox tattoo the summer before his final year at USC, a constant reminder of his guardian angel. It was minimal, the lines clean and flowing into each other. It was one of the few tattoos Jean had with colour, pale rose pink tingeing the fox’s tail to match Renee’s hair at the time. She had been overwhelmed when Jean had first sent her the pictures, saying how honored she was. He smiled now at the memory, reminding himself to message her later.

He chose to focus on Jeremy now instead. Jeremy, who was still kissing up his arm, hardly able to keep his smile to himself. Jeremy who had been a constant in Jean’s life since his arrival at USC all those years ago. Even after Jeremy had graduated, they had still managed to see each other, consistently keeping each other updated on their lives, making sure to take the time to see one another, to reassure the other that yes, I am here, yes though I’m far away I’m still thinking about you. I’m with you always. It had been difficult but it had also been a learning curve for the both of them, and their relationship had only grown stronger because of that distance. 

“Do you still want to?”

“Hmm?” Jean looked down into Jeremy’s eyes. Deep, electric blue as always, magnified slightly thanks to his glasses.

“Cuddle in bed?” Jeremy asked, a cheeky grin spreading from ear to ear. 

“Well,” Jean pulled the best face he could, fake pondering before collapsing next to Jeremy on the couch. “We could just stay here.”

“We could,” Jeremy agreed. His smile never faltered as he pushed Jean down gently until they were lying horizontally on the couch. 

Jean wrapped his arms loosely around Jeremy, pulling him closer. Heat swelled in his belly where their shirts rode up and skin met skin. It was intoxicating. 

Jeremy kissed Jean on his eyelids. First the one, the other before slowly making his way down to Jean’s lips. His glasses dug into Jean’s cheek, though, so, reaching up, Jean gently removed them, unhooking the wire temples from Jeremy’s ears and placing them lightly on the coffee table. They sat there along with the forgotten mugs of tea and coffee. 

“Sorry,” Jeremy murmured, whispering the words in the crook of Jean’s neck.

“It’s okay,” Jean replied, letting his fingers splay under Jeremy’s shirt. 

They stayed like that a while, just kissing lazily before the sun got to them. Turning so they were lying on their sides, Jean kept Jeremy encircled in his arms. They were facing each other, squished in order not to fall off the couch, legs entangled. Jean could smell the coffee on Jeremy’s breath and he loved it. 

“Thank you,” Jean found himself whispering.

“For what?” Jeremy asked, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. His nose crinkled when he did this, wrinkles slowly etching their way into his brow. Eventually, over time, they would permanent. Lines of smiles that had shone a hundred thousand times before would be engraved on either side of Jeremy’s mouth, crinkles leading down from his eyes like tree roots decorating his temples. Not yet, but someday. And Jean couldn’t help but smile at the thought that he would get to live long enough to that. 

“For this,” he meant their apartment, he meant the last few years they had spent together, sometimes bickering and other times just enjoying the other’s quiet comfort. He was saying thank you to the boy who years ago had sat with Jean on a dingy old couch after watching a movie, talking him through it. He was saying thank you to the boy who hadn’t blamed him for punching him in the middle of the night but had rather chosen to cradle his jaw in his hand and comfort him in the night. He was thanking the man before him now, the man he loved and cared for, and who loved and cared for him back. 

“For us.”

Jeremy smiled at that, his little rare smile that still made Jean’s pulse jump. 

“Thank you too then,” Jeremy whispered, burying his head in Jean’s chest, ear pressed against his ribcage. He was probably listening to Jean’s heartbeat. He did this a lot when they cuddled or lay in bed after a long day or match. It calmed him, and it calmed Jean knowing someone was there, someone who understood that the nightmares still came and that he still could picture a three where there was now a fleur de lis. It calmed him knowing Jeremy was willing to try and understand, even if he never could. 

“For what?” Jean asked, pulling Jeremy even closer still. 

“For this, for us,” Jeremy murmured, his breathing beginning to even out as sleep overtook him once again. 

Jean let him fall asleep right there, on the edge of the couch in their apartment, pressed against his chest and safe in Jean’s arms. Jeremy was safe. They both were. 

As long as they were willing to work together on this, on them, Jean knew he could always count of Jeremy to be there for him. And he knew that Jeremy knew that he could count on Jean too. 

Jean smiled softly as he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to chat come find me on tumblr @deliciouslysubtledelusion


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